A Matter of Trust
by Neuropsych
Summary: SG-1 isn't the only team that is interested in Ian Brooks... and they're willing to do whatever it takes to convince him to join them. (Rated because of the possibility for volence and because Ian has a potty mouth)
1. 01

**A Matter of Trust**

_Author's Note: Timeline wise: it's late April, just a couple of weeks after the events of Seasons._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people or places I didn't make up, but I do lay claim to those who are in this story but aren't in the TV show!_

OOOOOOOOOO

Alarms blared through out the complex as the Stargate activated, puling Hammond from his paperwork, and scattering the technicians who had been working on it as they bolted for the relative safety of being anyplace but in the path of whatever might be trying to come through. Hammond watched as the Marines jumped immediately into a defensive position and looked to the Sergeant manning the dialing computer.

"It's SG-1, Sir. They're coming in hot."

"Open the iris." Hammond reached for the microphone that would allow him to communicate with the security force.

"Look alive people. It's SG-1 and they're in trouble…"

The iris swooshed open even as the Marines brought their weapons up, and only an instant later Ian Brooks and Daniel Jackson came charging through, supporting Colonel Jack O'Neill between them. Only a moment later, Teal'c came through as well, facing the other direction and obviously guarding their retreat.

"Close the iris!"

Several arrows came zinging through the gate even as Daniel gave the order, one just barely missing Daniel and another striking Teal'c's staff weapon and clattering to the concrete floor on the left side of the ramp.

"Medical team to the embarkation room!" Hammond ordered, already heading for the door and the stairwell beyond. "Call Major O'Neill as well!"

By the time he reached them, Ian and Daniel had already lowered Jack to the ramp, Ian propping him up from behind and Daniel studying the arrow that was deeply embedded in Jack's left thigh, blood staining the leg of his BDUs crimson, although O'Neill himself was conscious and alert.

"What happened?" Hammond asked, checking to see if anyone else was injured. Jack looked to be the only one bleeding, however. "I thought your negotiations with the Altairians were going smoothly?"

Just then the door opened, admitting not only Janet Fraiser and a group of medics pushing gurneys, but also Jaffer, who shouldered past Janet and thundered up the ramp to whuffle Jack, nearly knocking him and Ian both over.

"Easy, little man," Jack murmured, resting his hand on Jaffer's shoulder to calm the lab, while Janet came up the ramp as well, Daniel and Hammond both moving out of the way so she could get to O'Neill's side.

"The negotiations were going fine," Jack said, wincing as Janet started checking the injury. "Right up until Daniel called the chief's daughter ugly."

Hammond looked over at Daniel, who shook his head.

"It wasn't his daughter, it was his _wife_, and I didn't call her ugly…"

"He thinks you did."

"You did, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said from where he was standing behind Jack and Ian, watching as Janet stabilized the leg, but kept the arrow where it was for now.

"I said she was _uglit_," Daniel corrected. "It's their word for charming…"

"Uh huh…"

Hammond looked at Janet.

"Is he all right?"

"It doesn't look too serious, sir," Janet said, moving Jaffer out of the way and making room for the medics to get Jack to his feet and onto a gurney. "We'll need to check for any poisons or anything, of course, because you never know what-"

"_Poisons_?" Jack echoed.

"I don't think they use poisoned arrows, Jack," Daniel assured him. "The-"

He was interrupted by Sam's arrival, the major coming through the door at a run, obviously pulled from whatever she'd been doing by the call from the command center.

"He's okay," Janet assured her, before Sam could even ask.

"I'm fine," Jack agreed, reaching for her hand with a smile. They'd been offworld for three days – far too long for him to be away from home, lately – and he'd missed her and Jacobgreatly. Add to it that he was returning with an arrow in his leg, and he was just as quick as Janet to reassure her.

"Everyone to the infirmary," Hammond ordered, moving out of the way once more as the medics started pushing Jack's gurney towards the door. "Doctor Fraiser, I'd like a report on Colonel O'Neill as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir."

OOOOOOOOO

Because of Jack's injury, it took Janet a couple of hours to clear the other members of SG-1 and allow them to leave her infirmary. Jack wasn't so lucky; he was going to be off his feet for a day or so, although Fraiser hadn't found any sign of poison on the arrowhead that was pulled out of his leg.

Ian had known there wasn't, although he hadn't said anything. That had been something he'd checked for himself while he'd been supporting Jack in the embarkation room – and something he would have taken care of immediately had he found anything. He couldn't deal with the injury without giving away things that definitely would require answers – answers he wasn't ready to give just then – but the wound wasn't serious, and he knew that Janet Fraiser was more than capable of handling it without his help.

By the time they finished their debriefing – without Jack, who was already complaining about being stuck in the infirmary – it was well after 7PM, and Ian breathed a sigh of relief at being dismissed. The last few days he'd been sleeping on pallet made of straw on a dirt floor, and he was ready for a long nap in a real bed – followed by a breakfast that he didn't have to watch get killed and butchered, which would do wonders for anyone considering trying to lose weight.

He checked out, and got into his car, was waved through the gate and headed for home. It was too late to make plans for the night – and he didn't feel like doing anything, anyways – but he'd give Cassie a call and maybe see if she wanted to do something the next evening.

Distracted by the plans he was making in his mind, he didn't notice the black suburban that pulled out behind him, tailing him from a safe distance.


	2. 02

"Are you sure about this, sir?"

"Morgan really wants this kid."

The driver of the Suburban turned and looked at his passenger.

"But Kinsey told us not to go anywhere near him. He said-"

"Kinsey's an old woman, Jason," the man sitting in the passenger seat said, shrugging. "He's lost his nerve since that accident and I don't know why the rest of the-"

"He's the _Vice President_."

"Not for long. It's not public knowledge, but the impeachment process is already in the works."

The third man – who was sitting in one of the back seats – gestured, interrupting the conversation.

"He's turning."

"I'm not blind."

"Tell me again what's so important about this kid that we're willing to cross Kinsey?"

"Because Admiral Leaf says so."

Which was good enough for some people, but not everyone. Especially not the man driving.

"I'm not in the Navy – and for that matter, neither is the _Admiral_ anymore. I'd like a little more than just '_because'_."

"Leaf knows the kid's father. Says that if Ian Brooks is anything like his old man, he's an asset that we don't want to miss a chance at."

"Provided he's _interested_."

The man in the back smiled.

"I've read his file from the Air Force Academy. It's pretty obvious from what I saw that he hates the military – probably only joined because of the old man – I'll bet he'd love a chance to make a difference and not have to put up with the shit the military dishes out."

That was why _he_ was there, after all.

"So we just walk up and ask him?"

"Something like that."

"What about O'Neill?"

"What about him?"

"What if the kid goes to O'Neill?"

"He won't."

"And if he does…?"

"We'll make sure he doesn't," he snapped. "You let me worry about that."

The driver shrugged.

"Do we do it tonight?"

"No." They all watched as the convertible pulled into the parking garage of a fairly nice apartment building, and the driver pulled the suburban over to the side of the road, parking in a place that they'd be able to watch the main entrance, but the big vehicle was blocked from the view of the apartment they knew Brooks lived in. "We'll wait until an opportunity presents itself."

"When will that be?"

"How the hell should I know?"

The driver sighed, and turned off the engine, leaning back into the leather seat. Might as well get comfortable. He was pretty sure that the opportunity wasn't going to come up and bite them on the ass any time soon.

OOOOOOOOO

The next morning, a ringing phone woke Ian from what had been the best night's sleep he'd had all week. He sat up, startled, and looked at the alarm clock – which he'd forgotten to set the night before. All he'd done was shower and go to bed. It was well after 8AM, and Ian never slept in that late. He was going to be late getting to the base.

"Shit."

The phone rang again, and he rolled over, tangled in the sheet and blanket but managing to reach for the handset, which was on the stand by his bed.

"Hello?"

"Good morning!"

Ian scowled, wiping his face tiredly.

"Hey, Jack… shouldn't you be… getting a shot or a sponge bath or something?"

O'Neill's voice was amused, telling Ian that he'd been awakelong enough to be wide awake.

"Just for that, smart ass, I'm not going to tell you the big news."

"What big news?"

"I'm not telling."

"Is Sam there, Jack?"

"_She's_ not going to tell you, either, so don't bother asking…"

Ian snorted. Someone was in a good mood.

"Fine. I don't want to know what the big news is, anyways."

"Liar. I _know_- hey!"

There was a faint sound of scuffling, and a moment later the voice on the other line was decidedly female.

"Good morning, Ian."

"Hi, Sam, how's Jake?"

"Fat and stubborn."

"No… I said _Jake_, Sam. Not _Jack_."

She chuckled.

"He's fine, Ian. Hammond's giving SG-1 the day off – since Jack's supposed to stay in bed today, so don't come in if you don't want to, okay?"

Ian hesitated. A day off sounded like a treat he could really appreciate, but he had other concerns besides just SG-1's business.

"Are you still working on that naquida regulator?"

"I am, but not today. Take the day off."

Ian smiled. He was pretty sure Sam had intended to work on the regulator – right up until he'd mentioned it.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Call me if you change your mind."

He knew she wouldn't. He wouldn't have, either.

"Have fun."

"Yes, ma'am."

She laughed and hung up and Ian dropped the phone back onto the stand by the bed and stretched out, debating whether or not to go back to bed, or to get up and start his day. Unfortunately, habit won out, and only five minutes or so after he'd finished talking to Sam he was already dragging himself out of his bed. He needed to go running and wake up – besides, he hadn't had a chance to do any running the last few days, either, and amazingly enough, he'd missed it.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in sweats, a sweatshirt and running shoes, he was coming out the front door and heading for his car.

OOOOOOO

"It's about time."

"No doubt."

They'd spent the night in an uncomfortable silence – broken only occasionally by the snores of the two who weren't keeping watch. All of them were awake by the time the sun had risen, though, fairly certain that the boy would be up and about early and getting antsy when he hadn't made an appearance. By the time the front door of the apartment building had opened, they were all short-tempered and feeling belligerent, and eager to be done with their assignment.

"Do we go now?"

"No. He's dressed for jogging – and there's no running track at the SGC. Follow him and see where he goes. We'll intercept him there."

"You're the boss."

As if he'd ever let them forget it.


	3. 03

Perversely, Ian preferred to jog at the small school near Jack and Sam's house – the jogging track where he'd almost been killed. It was a nice track, and he supposed that in some subconscious fashion, he knew that Jack was close at hand if something ever came up and he needed him. Of course, most days, Ian couldn't jog there, for the simple reason that it _was_ a school, and the schools were pretty much off limits to people who weren't teachers or students until after school was out for the day.

At 8:30 AM, school was just beginning, and Ian headed the convertible for the other track he used. This one was larger, but a bit out of the way – which wasn't normally a problem since Ian liked to drive. It wasn't as smooth or as well kept as the other one, though, and he'd only found it by accident one day while he'd been out cruising for no other reason than to drive. But it was a public track, meaning that he could use it any time, and every now and then there would be other people there as well, running here instead of at the park – which had a sidewalk all around it that was pretty good for jogging, too. If you liked having people annoy you with greetings every time you ran past them.

It didn't take Ian long to begin to suspect he was being followed. There wasn't a lot of traffic in the quiet neighborhoods that he drove through to get to the other track, and there was a flash of a large black suburban in his rearview mirror almost every time he turned onto a different street. Noting the plate number the third time he saw it – assuming then that it was just a coincidence – Ian didn't change his route or anything, although he did hit a busier road a few blocks up that gave him a chance to look back once more and see if the rig was still behind him. Several cars away, it was still there, and when Ian turned onto the quieter road that led to the track, he saw it turn a couple of moments later, and scowled. Same plate number.

Someone was definitely following him. Someone not all that bright – why not tail him in a bright yellow Volkswagen bus with a green neon sign on the top? It wouldn't have stuck out any more than the suburban did. He wondered who it was – military guys, maybe – just out checking what he was doing? Maybe they were doing a routine check on him? Seeing if he hung out with Commies on his day off? Of course there was always the chance that it was something more sinister – and given the shit he'd been through the last several months, Ian was definitely one to assume the worst.

He pulled the car into a parking spot by the track, and opened his glove box. By the time the black rig had pulled in as well – making no effort to hide, now, since there was no place _for_ them to hide – Ian was already out on the track, running slow and easy to stretch his muscles out, and stopping on the far end of the track to stretch his arms and legs a little more once he found the muscles that were tighter than the others.

"There he is."

"I see him, I'm not blind."

"You're in a foul mood this morning…"

"Maybe because I spent the night watching you two sleep?"

"Can it, both of you." The leader of this excursion, John Smith, was about as ordinary a man as you would ever find. Brown hair that was just starting to recede, brown eyes and a medium build that was just starting to run to fat around the middle, he was wearing a dark suit – that wasn't too rumpled, even with the night spent in the suburban – and a dark trench coat to ward off the morning chill. But he was definitely in charge, and when he spoke up, the other two quieted. "Let's go talk to him."

He led the way through the gate that led onto the track, and the other two fell in behind him, both of them similarly dressed, and just as glad to have a chance to stretch muscles that were stiff from the night's inactivity.

OOOOOOO

They weren't military. None of them. Ian could tell just by the way they were walking towards him. You put three Marines side by side and tell them to walk – even retired Marines – and they'd fall into step immediately. It was an automatic thing. Add to that the fact that none of them had the upright bearing that only comes from being put at attention for long periods of time for absolutely no reason, and Ian was even more certain of it. They looked like a caricature of spies, if anything. CIA, maybe? Or a group of guys pretending to be something they weren't. Whatever they were, they weren't hiding from him, and when he saw they were coming right for him, Ian stopped his stretching and waited for them to approach, his hands in the pocket of the front of his sweatshirt to keep warm.

When they came within speaking distance, they stopped. The one in the middle spoke up first, which didn't surprise Ian, since he had led the way across the field, soaking his expensive leather shoes in the process.

"Ian Brooks?"

He scowled.

"Who wants to know?"

The leader of the group scowled as well. He didn't like the kid's attitude already, and he'd only said four words to him. However, he had his orders.

"My name is John Smith. I'm-"

"Yeah, right." Ian snorted. "And I'm _Bob Jones_."

Smith's scowl deepened. It wasn't the first time he'd taken crap about his name, but it didn't make it any easier to take coming from a punk kid. Even worse, one of the men behind him couldn't hide his own amused snort, which earned him a withering glare.

"I've been sent to bring you to my superior, Mr. Brooks," Smith said, continuing as if nothing had been said. "He'd like to talk to you."

"Something wrong with his legs that he couldn't walk across the field, too?" Ian asked sarcastically.

"He's not here. We'll take you to him."

"Talk about what?"

"He'll tell you that."

"Why don't _you_? That'll save him the trouble."

Ian had no intention of going anywhere with these guys. He didn't know who they were – he was pretty sure this one wasn't John Smith, for one thing – but he knew who they weren't. They weren't anyone he knew.

"He'd like to see you for himself."

"Then take a picture of me and take it back to him."

"He's a friend of your father's."

"Big deal."

Ian knew they were lying, then. His father didn't have many more friends than he did – but they were _all_ military men and women, Ian knew. These guys weren't military, and weren't sent by someone in an official military capacity. There was no way.

"We know about SG-1."

Ian didn't even flinch. Lots of people knew about SG-1. Of course, that was narrowing things down, though, because the only people besides the military who knew about the SGC were the politicians. And these guys could definitely be associated with politicians.

"Congratulations."

"Look kid," one of the others said, interrupting Smith before he could even open his mouth again. "We want you to come with us. So get your ass-"

"Go fuck yourself," Ian said, interrupting. "I'm not interested in whatever you're selling. You can tell your boss that, too."

Smith glared, both at Bennett, the man who had spoken out of turn, and at Ian, who was definitely proving to be more trouble than he'd expected.

"Mr. Brooks. We-"

"Do I need to say it slower?" Ian asked, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. _"I. Am. Not. Going. With. You._ So shove your request up your ass where it can join your head, and go find someone else to pester."

Smith's face grew red, although Ian couldn't tell if it was from anger or something else. And he didn't care.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this the hard way, Mr. Brooks," Smith said, moving his trench coat slightly to the side and showing the butt of a gun in a holster. "Now… you're going to come with us and speak to my boss, or bad things are going to happen."

Ian pulled his hand out of the pocket of his sweatshirt – and all three men took a step back. The Glock gleamed dully in the morning sun and the hand that held it was steady. His dark eyes cold, Ian pointed the weapon directly at Smith, level with his chest.

"Go fuck yourself. And take your peanut gallery with you."


	4. 04

Things had just gotten way out of hand, and Smith wasn't sure exactly how to fix it. Normally, when he bullied someone – especially when he had backup – they did what he said. They either blustered and threatened, or they whined and pleaded, but they capitulated. Never did they pull a gun – and who the hell jogs with a gun anyways? He had to get the situation back under control, because he could tell already that he was losing ground fast.

"Mr. Brooks…"

Ian's other hand came up, working the action on the Glock, and the noise was loud and clear in the sudden silence that had followed the appearance of the weapon.

"Look, kid-"

Ian turned the gun from Smith to Bennett, who had spoken up, obviously thinking the same thing Smith had been – they needed to regain control of the situation.

"I'm not a fucking kid, ass wipe. I don't know what you guys want, but you're not going to find it here. Get-"

"Are you going to _shoot_ us, Mr. Brooks?" Smith asked, giving Ian a slight smile that was forced. The gun was steady and the eyes were cold, but he really doubted that the kid had it in him to kill any of them. He didn't have a killer's eyes. "It's _very_ messy, you know…"

"Not as messy as slicing someone's throat," Ian said, bringing the gun back to Smith. The way he said it, it made them all believe that he actually knew just how messy it was to slice someone's throat – and how would he know _that_?

"Ian-"

"Get going."

"I don't think so," Smith said, even though Bennett and Pleasant – the other man behind Smith – were both more than ready to turn around and head back to the suburban. "I don't think you'll kill any of us…"

"I don't _have_ to kill you," Ian said, shrugging. To make the point, he lowered the gun, and now it was pointing at Smith's groin, and then it was aimed at his knee. "I just have to make sure you don't bother me anymore, and-"

"Jesus, kid!" Smith couldn't help but take another step backwards. "We don't want to do it this way. We were just sent to bring you to-"

"I'm not going. Go back, and tell your fucking boss that if he wants to talk to me, then he can call my secretary and make a fucking appointment."

It wasn't like any of them could do anything but just that. Brooks had the drop on them – there was no doubt about that – and Smith really believed that while the kid didn't have the guts to kill him, there was no way he wouldn't shoot them. _Him_, at least. He wouldn't have to do more than drop him to get the other two to bolt, and Smith knew it. Pale and sweating – even though the morning was chilly – Smith backed up another step.

"Fine. We just got off on the wrong foot, kid, that's all… I'll go talk to my boss, and see what he says. No hard feelings…"

He raised his hands slightly, showing Brooks that he wasn't going to do anything stupid, and started taking a few more steps backwards.

Ian didn't answer. He just watched as the three men backed up a bit, and then turned and walked across the field back towards their rig, every now and then looking over their shoulders as if to se if he was still watching them. Gun in hand, Ian followed them at a fairly safe distance, making sure they actually left. Only when they got into the suburban and drove off, turning the corner and going out of sight, did Ian lower the Glock, and then he leaned against the hood of the convertible for a long moment, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out what the hell that had been about.

He put the Glock back in the glove box and got behind the wheel, not at all interested in jogging, now. Who was so interested in him that they might send some guys out to get him? It couldn't be the military. The military knew where to find him. And they didn't really have to ask, they just had to tell Jack or General Hammond, and one of the two would tell Ian what was going on. Which meant civilians, of course – although Ian didn't have enough background in politics to know what kind of organization might be interested in talking to him. Or what they'd want to talk about.

Probably, if they knew about the Stargate, they were interested in hearing more about it from him. Maybe they knew he was helping Sam with her experiments and figured that he'd be a lot easier to approach for obtaining those secrets than she would – and who would be brave enough to try to go through Jack to get to Sam, even if she wasn't able to take care of herself? He shook his head. The last thing he'd ever do was betray the secrets of the SGC – especially to a bunch of piss ants. He wondered if they really did know his dad, or if that was a lie. He knew they weren't friends with him, that was for certain – and he debated calling Jack and telling him about what had happened.

Jack was stuck in the infirmary, though, and Ian was loathe to bother him with something that probably wasn't important when he was already feeling like shit with a stab wound to his leg. As he drove home, he decided that he'd make a couple calls himself – just to see what he could find out – and then, depending on what he heard, he'd decide what to do from there.

OOOOOOO

"Hello?"

"Dad?"

Nathan Brooks sat up a little, his blue eyes suddenly intense and worried, although no one was with him to see it.

"_Ian_? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're not hurt?"

"No."

"Not in danger?"

"No."

"Oh."

There was a hesitation, then, because Nate had absolutely no idea why his son would be calling him if he wasn't hurt or in danger – although Ian hadn't ever called him when he was hurt or in danger, for that matter. Others had.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, dad."

Ian seemed to understand the hesitation, because there was none of the usual annoyance in his voice, and Nate relaxed just a hair, deciding he'd called to talk to Maggie.

"Your mom's not here, son. She's-"

"I called to talk to you."

"Oh." Another hesitation. "You're _sure_ you're okay?"

Ian couldn't help but chuckle. He knew he'd thrown his dad for a loop, but it had been a long time since he'd heard Nate so flustered, and never because of him.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions – if you have a minute?"

"Sure, son. What's up?"

When was the lat time Ian had ever called him to ask him anything? _Never_ was the answer that popped into Nathan's mind.

"Do you know a guy named John Smith?"

"_John Smith_? That's his _real_ name?"

"He said it was," Ian replied. "He came looking for me – telling me that a guy he's working for wanted to talk to me, and that this guy knew you – so I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

"Military?"

"No."

"Spooks?"

"I don't think so…" Ian said. "But I'm not as familiar with that kind of thing as you are… you-"

"I don't know a John Smith off the top of my head, Ian," Nate said, interrupting. "But that could just be an alibi – and a _bad_ one – for someone I might know…"

"It's probably just some guy trying to get free tickets to one of mom's shows or something," Ian said, deciding that he probably shouldn't have bothered his dad with this. "I was just hoping you might know something I didn't."

"Not this time, son." Nate was quiet for a moment, trying to think if he knew anyone who used that particular alibi. The trouble was; no one ever would. It was so dumb that it would draw more attention to a person than they'd want. "Let me think about it and get back to you."

"Okay, dad. It's not important or anything. I was just curious."

"I'll call you, Ian," Nate promised. "You're _okay_, though? Don't need anything?"

"I'm fine. Really."

He was touched that Nate kept asking – although the year before he might have been more annoyed than anything. It was amazing what a year could do to someone.

"Okay. Let me know if you do."

"I will, dad. Thanks. Tell mom I said hi…"

The line went dead, and Nate sat back in his chair, holding the receiver and staring off into space for a long moment. Then he dialed a number, and waited for an answer.

"Colonel Ian Piper, please. Tell him it's Nathan Brooks."

There was a wait of no more than thirty seconds before a very familiar voice came on the other end of the line.

"Nate?"

"Ian. You busy?"

"Not too busy for you, sir. What's up?"

"Do you know anyone who goes by the name of John Smith?"

"Military?"

"No."

"John Smith, huh?" Even Piper sounded amused by the name. "It's not very original, is it?"

"No."

"What's this about?" Piper asked curiously.

"Ian just called, and was apparently approached by this guy, telling him that he – or his boss – knew me. I don't know anyone named Smith, but I want to know who's trying to talk to Ian."

"Kinsey, maybe?"

"Maybe. Do some snooping for me, will you, Ian? Keep it low key, though. I don't want anyone knowing we're looking."

"Will do, Nate. Is Ian all right?"

"He _said_ he was, but you never know with that kid."

"I'll check it out. If someone's messing with him, I'll find out who."

"Thanks, Ian."

"That's what godfather's do, Nate."

There was a chuckle, and the line went dead, and this time Nathan hung up the phone as well. He didn't know anyone named John Smith, but if someone named John Smith knew someone who knew him, Ian Piper would find out for him. Ian was very good at finding things out, and Nathan was definitely interested in this.


	5. 05

"Your task was a simple one, John. How could you have failed so _miserably_?"

John Smith scowled, fidgeting in the chair he was sitting in and looking across the desk at his immediate supervisor, Phillip Morgan. Morgan was in his early fifties, well built and good looking with a full head of dark hair and green eyes that were intelligent and alert. At the moment, however, his handsome face was marred with a frown as he regarded the man sitting across from him.

"He had a fucking _gun_, Phil," Smith said, crossly. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Watch your language, John. You know I don't approve of that."

"Sorry." He wasn't, though. "He had a _gun_," he repeated. "What was I supposed to do about that? The kid as good as threatened to kneecap me if we didn't leave. Who carries a gun jogging?"

It was the same question he'd been asking himself the entire morning.

Morgan frowned.

"Did you even _read_ the file I gave you?"

"Of course I did."

Opening the top drawer of his desk, Morgan pulled out a file and dropped in on the desk between the two of them.

"A few days after Thanksgiving, Ian Brooks was accosted in a schoolyard while he was out jogging. By five men. They shot him and left him for dead – after he crippled one of them and gave a fair showing of himself." Morgan hesitated for a moment, looking at Smith. "Can you tell me why Brooks might have been carrying a weapon while he was out jogging, and why he might have immediately gone on the defensive when he saw a small group of men coming towards him while he was out running?"

Smith scowled, and picked up the file that Morgan had thrown down on the desk.

"I didn't see that."

"I didn't think that you _had_."

"I don't think you really want this kid, Phillip," he said as he glanced in the file. "He's rude, and obnoxious, and-"

"He'll grow out of that. I want spirited young men who can handle themselves, and Ian Brooks appears to be exactly that."

"He's not going to come see you. He won't –"

"Because you botched it."

"I-"

"Never mind, John," Morgan said with a sigh. Almost as if he should have expected Smith to screw up the assignment – although he really hadn't, since Smith wasn't usually so inept when it came to completing assignments. If he were, he never would have been given one so important to the Trust, after all. "We'll just have to come up with another way to get young Mr. Brooks' attention."

The way he said it told Smith that Morgan already had something in mind.

"Like what?" He asked, curiously. "I don't think it's going to do any good to threaten him…"

"I don't want to _threaten_ him, John. I want him to come willingly to work for me – and threatening him isn't the best way to win someone's loyalty."

"Threaten someone else?"

"No." Morgan reached over the desk and took the file back from Smith, and flipped through it. It didn't take long, since there were only a few pages, and a moment later he dropped it again, this time open to a couple of pictures. Two young men in Academy uniforms.

"Those are his roommates at the academy," John said, looking down. He _had_ read the file, after all. He knew who the two were.

"Yes." Morgan smiled, leaning back in his chair and watching Smith. "We get one of _them_ in the Trust, and half our work is done for us, I imagine. Brooks will listen to his friends long before he'd listen to us."

Smith looked up.

"Adams?"

"God, no. While I would love nothing more than to have him in the Organization, Shawn Adams is _dangerous_. Simply because of his father. There is no way Jack O'Neill would not find out."

"But the roommate is probably pretty close to Adams – _and_ O'Neill. And Brooks works with-"

"But once we explain to them the benefits of working for us instead of the military, they'll understand the need for secrecy."

"And you think this Hayden kid will go for it? And bring Brooks in with him?"

Morgan smiled.

"If we handle him properly, yes."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"The first thing we need to do is separate him from Adams. I don't want this bungled, John. Handle River Hayden carefully, and don't for a minute allow him to feel threatened. Bring him to me, and I'll do the talking. If he balks, we've probably lost our last chance at Brooks, and Leaf really, _really_ wants Brooks."

"I'll take care of it."

He stood up and left the office, his mind already filled with different plans as to how he could lure the cadet away from the Air Force academy long enough to have a chance to talk to him in private.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I thought I told you to take the day off?"

Ian gave Jack a slight smile.

"As I recall, _you_ didn't tell me anything. You were keeping it a _secret_, remember?"

"I don't remember that."

Jack was stretched out in one of the beds in the infirmary, his legs hidden by the blanket that had him covered to the waist, although one leg was elevated slightly by means of a pillow underneath it, and Ian knew it was the one that had been injured. Sprawled on his father's chest, drooling as he slept, Jake was the epitome of comfort, rivaled only to Jaffer, who was sprawled comfortably beside Jack, stretched almost the entire length of the bed as well, his tail thumping a happy greeting to Ian, who reached down and scratched the perpetually itchy spot behind his ears.

"How's the leg?"

"Fine. I'll be on it tomorrow – although it'll be another day or so before I'm allowed to do anything strenuous. You know how Fraiser is."

"Yeah."

Boy, did he ever.

"So what are you doing here?" Jack asked. "Just came to check on me? Or decided to help Sam?"

Ian hesitated. And decided he didn't need to bother Jack with the story of the three guys. It wasn't like there was anything he could do from his bed, anyways – or even if he wasn't in bed, really. The guys were gone, and the only name he had to go on was John Smith. Which had to be a fake name.

"I'm just slumming."

Jack smiled, and threw a pillow at Ian, careful not to jostle his son.

"Go pester Sam."

"Yes, sir, Colonel O'Neill, Sir."

Smiling, Ian left the infirmary. He might as well go help Sam, since it would be more interesting than hanging out in the infirmary until Fraiser kicked him out.


	6. 06

Ian spent the rest of the morning in Sam's lab with her, helping as she worked on a new naquida regulator. He had been the one to give her the idea – a way of using the energy stored in naquida in carefully controlled bursts that might make it useful as a fuel for some new kind of propulsion engine which she hadn't actually started building yet, but had begin to consider. She had to have the regulator ready before she could know how to build the engine, and the regulator itself was far from finished. But it was coming along, and Sam knew that a lot of the credit went to Ian, who seemed to always be able to come up with a solution when a new problem with the technology presented itself.

As she watched him test the energy fluctuation in the small amount of naquida they were using, Sam decided that he looked a little distracted. Ian always looked somewhat distracted. Sam knew it was because he had a lot on his mind; not only the things he was doing with SG-1, but the things he was helping her with, the work he was doing with his assignments with the academy, spending time with Andrew, self-defense with Teal'c – and sometimes Jack – and of course, his relationship with Cassie.

Ian was one of the few people that truly awed Sam. Not because he was intelligent, because she knew a lot of intelligent people, but because for someone so young, he was as disciplined as they came when it had to do with taking care of the things around him. He was still raw in many ways – including how he reacted and acted towards those around him – but he was showing the signs of the man he'd someday be, and Sam couldn't wait to see that man.

So, because of all the things he had on his plate, it was really no wonder that he looked so distracted, she knew. This seemed a little different, though.

"Ian?"

He looked up, his hand stilling on the diagnostic tool he'd been using.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

He hesitated for only a moment, and then nodded.

"I'm fine, Sam."

She caught the hesitation, of course. Not only that, but Ian was about as easy to read as a billboard. Especially if you knew him well. He was terrible at hiding his feelings, and a horrible liar. Of course, since he never felt the need to hide what he was feeling, and was always willing to tell someone exactly what he thought of them, it made sense that he had very little practice at either.

"You sure?"

He nodded again, looking down at the naquida, and Sam knew he wasn't telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth when he did that.

"It's just been a little hectic this week…" he said, shrugging.

She believed _that_, but she didn't believe that was the reason for the distraction. Of course, she also couldn't just come right out and force him to tell her, either. It wasn't like he wasn't allowed to have secrets, after all, and maybe he was trying to come up with a present for Cassie's upcoming graduation, or maybe he was just working on something complicated in his head. Who knew? Whatever it was, she had asked, and he now knew that if it was something she could help with, _he_ could ask.

She nodded, and they went back to work, but once they stopped for lunch, Sam told Ian she wasn't going to go back to the lab. She wanted him to have some time to himself, and he wasn't going to get it if he was helping her – no matter how much she appreciated that help.

Ian had accepted that, and declined her invitation to eat with her and Jack – and Jake. He had debated telling Sam about the guys in the black suburban, but Sam had enough on her plate without dealing with his as well. She had Jake, and work, and Jack was hurt, and this new regulator that would eventually become the hottest drive ever built – even though they hadn't quite figured it out yet. She had enough to worry about without trying to worry about something that was probably no big deal anyways. Besides, she and Jack had already done so much for him; he didn't want to be more of a burden than he already had been.

He stopped long enough to tell Jack goodbye – and decline the invitation to help change Jake – and then he headed for the nearest pizza place, figuring he'd stuff himself with lunch and then head back to his place and maybe spend the afternoon doing nothing at all, since he didn't have anyone to do anything with. At least not until school was out for the day.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The phone rang three times before Nathan answered it, and he cursed before he did, because someone was going to pay dearly for calling him and pulling him out of the shower.

"Yeah?"

"Nate, it's Ian. Do you have a minute?"

The anger at standing naked in the middle of his bedroom, dripping onto the carpet and knowing that if Maggie happened to walk in on him like this she'd have been delighted to tell the story to all the women in her dance troupe, faded away instantly.

"Sure, Ian. I was just…" he looked down at himself. Maggie was out of town, so his dignity was safe. "…doing a crossword puzzle."

"Pulled you out of the shower, did I?"

Piper's voice was amused, and Nate just shook his head. Smart-ass just knew him too well, that was all.

"What have you learned, Ian?"

"You know who Samuel Leaf is?"

"Navy guy? Rear Admiral?"

"That's the one."

"Sure, I know who he is… I don't know him personally, but-"

"He has a guy named Phillip Morgan working for him."

"Yeah? And?"

"Phillip Morgan has a guy named John Smith working for him. It's very hush hush, Nate – and I won't tell you who told me, since I was sworn to secrecy."

"So this John Smith guy really exists?"

"If it's the same guy, he does. It's possible he is, since at the moment, no one knows where Morgan or Smith are – and apparently they disappear all the time."

Meaning they weren't going on long vacations together. Nate understood the implications to that as much as Piper did – and for the same reasons.

"We're sure it's the same guy?"

"Guess who Leaf works for, Nate…?" Piper said. The way he said it assured Nathan Brooks that the answer wasn't something he was going to like hearing.

"Who?"

"Vice President Robert Kinsey."

"You're shitting me."

"You know I wouldn't, Nate. Not about this."

Of course he wouldn't. Brooks was quiet for a minute, deciding the ramifications of what he'd just heard.

"What are you thinking?" Piper finally asked.

His gaze falling in the twin Berettas that were sitting on the dresser, Nate's eyes grew cold, and his voice followed suit.

"I'm thinking I need to take a short trip to D.C. in the morning."


	7. 07

"Hey River, where are you going?" 

River looked over as Shawn walked into their dorm room. The blonde Californian was putting on his jacket – his bright orange Columbia jacket, which was a sure sign that he wasn't going to be hanging out at the academy, because they weren't allowed to be seen in clothes that stuck out like that, and that jacket definitely did just that.

"I'm going to meet a guy."

"Yeah? Who?"

Shawn wasn't aware that River knew all that many people in Colorado – and he thought he knew them all.

"A guy that knows my dad. He's a big surf enthusiast, and wants me to pass on a present for him."

"He's a surfer? Here?"

River grinned.

"Not all surfers live on the water, Shawn. Just those that are lucky. The rest of them only get to surf on vacation."

Shawn smiled, shaking his head. He'd gone to California with River on Spring break and had tried surfing. It wasn't so bad, but he'd been well aware of the fact that sharks liked to try and eat people on surfboards, and Shawn had plans for his life that didn't include being bait.

"Why doesn't he take the present to your dad himself?"

"Because mom and dad are in Australia right now – and it's not a cheap ticket to get there."

Shawn frowned, walking over and sitting down on his bunk as he watched River automatically straighten his jacket – even though he wasn't in uniform.

"Have you ever met this guy?"

"Nope."

"You're going to meet with a stranger?"

River smiled, looking over at Shawn.

"You think someone's going to kidnap me?"

Shawn flushed, knowing that he was probably being a lot more suspicious than he had to be. It wasn't really his fault; he probably got that particular characteristic from Jack, after all.

"Where are you going?"

"To a coffee place downtown."

Which told Shawn there would be plenty of people around, so he probably didn't need to worry about the guy being some kind of freak. It was Saturday morning, after all, and a beautiful day at that. There'd be lots of people out and about – and chances were the coffee shop would have its share of customers.

"Oh."

River grinned again and slapped Shawn's shoulder as he headed for the door.

"Relax, Shawn. It's a meeting downtown with a friend of my dad's. What could possibly happen?"

OOOOOOOOO

Saturday morning on the east coast of the country was just as nice as it was in Colorado, but Nathan Brooks didn't even notice the nice weather as he drove from New Jersey to D.C. For that matter, he didn't notice a lot of things; his mind was on something far more important the trees blooming white blossoms and the way the sun shone so brightly that it made most of the other people on the road more cheerful just being out in it.

He reached D.C. just after 9AM, long before River was heading out the front gate of the academy grounds to catch a bus downtown, and because it was Saturday, instead of heading towards the Mall where he'd normally find the Vice President this time of day, he headed instead for a classy eatery that was on the east side of town, well out of the way of the noisier – and nosier – population and a favorite gathering spot for some of the higher up levels of bureaucracy in the nation's capitol. It was also well known – to those who needed to know – that this was one of Kinsey's favorite places to eat on Saturday morning. Ian Piper had known it, and had made sure Nate knew it as well, because it was also going to be the best place to contact the Vice President. Even if the man didn't want to be contacted.

He pulled into the valet parking area, tossed one of the guys the keys to his car and gave him a menacing look that plainly said to be very careful parking it. Then he headed inside.

The Roost was a fairly small restaurant that catered to the very well to do. It was always filled – even on a weekend morning – and the service and food weren't really the reason why, even though they were both excellent. It was just the place to be seen – and in a city like D.C., people always wanted to make sure they were in the places to be seen. Even though it was busy there, Vice President Robert Kinsey never had to worry about being crowded. He had a room set aside just for him – or for him and his family if they should be with him – and with a couple of armed Secret Service agents outside the door keeping people away unless he said it was okay for them to join him, there was no reason he couldn't come here and enjoy a leisurely meal, and even do a little business that had nothing to do with being the Vice President. The room was secure and one of the few places in D.C. that was free of any surveillance equipment – his agents made sure of that – and it was one of the few places the barely healed man felt truly secure.

Right up until one of his worst nightmares came barging through the door, trailed by two extremely ruffled looking agents, who had obviously just been run over and ignored.

Ian Brooks didn't look at all like his father. He was slim and dark, taking after his mother, while Nathan Brooks was a large man with blonde hair and blue eyes. But even if Kinsey hadn't seen Nathan before – and he had – he'd still have recognized the furious anger in the man's eyes as being related to the dark-haired young man who had magically appeared in his hospital room that night not so long ago, asking him about a plane crash and terrifying him far more than he'd ever have admitted to anyone.

Kinsey shrank back in his well-padded chair, reaching helplessly for the cane that was still needed to aid him in walking and knowing that if Brooks was there to do him harm it wouldn't help him at all – and neither would the Secret Service men.

"What do you want?" He asked, almost screaming it, furious at himself for being terrified, and even more furious at his inability to hide that fact.

Brooks walked over to the table, just as intimidating now as he had been the last time Kinsey had seen him, two days before Thanksgiving. The day Kinsey had learned a lesson he'd never forget.

"We need to talk, Kinsey," the voice was as cold as the harsh blue eyes were, and the Vice President was glad no one could see just how badly his knees were shaking. "Tell the Service guys to leave us alone for a minute."

Terrified of doing what he said – and losing the scant protection of the two armed men – and even more terrified of what might happen if he refused, Kinsey looked over at the leader of his Secret Service detail. The man had his hand in his jacket – on his sidearm, Kinsey knew. But that didn't make him feel any safer. If bullets started flying, Robert Kinsey was fairly certain he was going to be the first one to go down.

"Go ahead…" his voice was a croaking noise, but clearly heard. "I'll be all right."

He wasn't so sure about that – and could tell that the Secret Service guys weren't sure, either – but they both left. Probably, Kinsey decided, they didn't want bullets to fly anymore than he did.


	8. 08

While normally Ian handed in his homework on Friday afternoon at the academy, it wasn't completely unusual for him to end up waiting until Saturday. After all, there had been a few times when missions offworld had simply kept him away on Fridays. The instructors – who didn't know what he was really doing, of course – didn't know the difference since they had the weekends off and usually just left their homework assignments for him in the main office, and he left his completed assignments in their IN boxes in their various classrooms. It worked well for all parties, and gave Ian the leniency that he needed in his schedule.

Saturday morning found him in the main office, ignoring the looks that a few cadets were giving him as he sorted through the new assignments that had been left in the box with his name on it. The Cadets didn't understand why Brooks was allowed to be off campus, and it fostered a fair amount of jealousy among some of them that he didn't have to sit in classes with them and was allowed to work on his own. Not to mention that he was thriving on the regiment, while most of them knew they would have been struggling.

Of course, curiosity had gotten the better of some of them – especially the older students, who thought they should know everything that was going on around them – and a few had asked where he was spending his time. They hadn't asked him, of course. Even the upper classmen knew what Ian's response to their questions would have been, so they'd asked the instructors themselves. And had been told in no uncertain terms to mind their own business. If the Air Force wanted them to know, they'd have put out a memo.

"Ian…"

All heads turned when Shawn came into the office – mainly because there were so few cadets that addressed Ian by his first name and everyone wanted to see who had been crazy enough to do it. When they saw who it was, they all turned back to whatever they'd been doing. Shawn was Ian's roommate and everyone knew that even though the New Yorker wasn't even staying in the room anymore, he was protective of Adams, and wouldn't appreciate anyone watching them.

Ian gave Shawn a slight smile. He had planned on stopping by the dorm room and seeing if Shawn and River were there, and this saved him the trouble of tracking them down if they hadn't been around.

"What's going on, Adams?"

The question had simply been Ian's rare attempt at small talk, but when he asked, Shawn decided that he might as well let someone know about his own uneasiness at River going off to visit with some guy he didn't know. Ian was a good choice for that, because Ian was easily as suspicious of the people around him as Shawn was. More, even.

"Funny you should ask…"

"Yeah? What do you mean?"

"Well… I'm kind of worried about River…"

"Yeah? Why? Did he make the moves on the wrong guy's girlfriend?"

Shawn smiled.

"Probably. But that's not what I'm talking about."

"What do you mean, then?"

Shawn shrugged.

"I'm probably making more out of this than it is, but River left to go meet some guy who said he was friends with his dad – something about passing on a gift or something for him."

"And you don't think he is?"

"He said he didn't know the guy – bit I didn't know all of my dad's friends, either…"

It was clear to Ian, though, that Shawn was a bit concerned – and after the events of the day before, Ian was already suspicious as well.

"Did he say where they were going to meet?"

"A coffee shop downtown," Shawn said, relieved that Ian hadn't made some sarcastic comment about him worrying over nothing.

"There's a lot of coffee shops downtown, Shawn…"

"I know. That's all he told me, though."

Ian was quiet for a moment, and Shawn wondered if he was going to brush him off anyways, even though the older cadet seemed just as uncertain as he felt.

"Well… you have the rest of the day free, don't you?" Ian asked.

Shawn nodded.

"Then how about I buy you a cup of coffee…? Someplace… oh, I don't know… downtown…?"

Shawn smiled and nodded, relieved.

"Sounds great."

"Go check out. I'll meet you in the parking lot as soon as I drop off my homework."

OOOOOOOO

"What do you want?" Kinsey asked, watching Nate warily as the retired general watched the door close behind the last of the Secret Service agents. As soon as the latch clicked, Nate turned to the Vice President, his eyes so cold that Kinsey felt his stomach clench in fear.

"I want to know what the fuck you're trying to pull, Kinsey."

Confusion warred with the fear in Kinsey's expression.

"What are you talking about?"

Nate scowled – a truly fearsome sight, especially when Kinsey already felt like he was going to lose control of his bowels.

"Don't play dumb with me, you slimy bastard. I know about the men who came looking for my son, and I'm not happy about it. You're not that smart, but I figured even you wouldn't pull anything after the last-"

"I don't know what you're _talking_ about!" Kinsey's voice had reached several octaves higher than normal as he realized Brooks was angry about something he hadn't done – and if he hadn't done it, then there was no way he could talk his way out of it, saying it was a misunderstanding or something. "I haven't gone near your son!"

Jesus, the last person in the world he'd ever go near was that fucking kid!

"Your men have," Nate repeated.

"What men?"

"John Smith."

Nate was an excellent judge of character, and well trained in reading people – and he was beginning to believe that Kinsey was telling the truth – that he didn't have a clue what his men were doing. However, that didn't take him off the hook, because as far as Nate was concerned; what the subordinates did, the commanding officer was responsible for – and there was no doubt who Smith worked for.

"I don't know any John Smith."

Now Nate knew he was lying, and he lost what little control he'd regained. His hand shot out and grabbed Kinsey's thousand dollar suit by the front, jerking him forward, and then pushing him back, effectively shaking him without even needing to come around the table.

"Don't _lie_ to me you Sonofabitch!"

Kinsey's eyes widened, and his face paled even further. How did Brooks know about Smith? What else did he know about? Was he in on the SGC's secrets? He was a friend of O'Neill's; after all… maybe the bastard had shared intel with Brooks – even though he damned well wasn't supposed to!

"I don't-"

Brooks reached for the cane that Kinsey had hold of, tearing it out of the suddenly clammy hand and pulling it back. Kinsey cringed backwards.

"Fine! I know Smith! But I didn't send him after your son! I swear!"

"I don't believe you, you piece of-"

"I _didn't_!"

He _did_ believe him, but he wasn't ready to admit that just yet.

"Who did, then?"

"I don't know!"

"You'd better find out, Kinsey," Nathan said, tossing the cane aside with a clatter. "Because I'm not happy with the idea of anyone connected with you being anywhere near my son – and you'd better _believe_ I have no problem with the idea of taking that out on you. I want to know who did it – and I want to know what they wanted, and if you don't find out, I'll tear this whole fucking city apart finding out on my own – and I don't care where the pieces fall – or who gets crushed."

Meaning that Kinsey would be the first to go down – even if he was the Vice President. There was no doubt that Brooks meant it – and Kinsey knew he'd do it, too. Brooks had easily as much political clout as he did, and more importantly, he had a lot of friends in high-level positions – mainly military positions, but that was all it took. After all, hadn't it been the Legions that had taken down several of the Roman emperors?

"I'll find out," Kinsey promised, his voice cracking. The fear he was feeling was also beginning to give way to a certain amount of anger, because Kinsey didn't like being afraid, and he was going to make sure whoever was responsible for this was going to pay. And pay dearly.

Nathan stared at him a moment longer, and then reached in his jacket. For a brief moment, Kinsey was terrified he'd pull out a gun or something, but all he pulled out was a pen. Taking a napkin, he wrote a number on it and pushed it over to the place in front of the Vice President's plate.

"This is my cell number. You find out, and then you call me. Until I hear otherwise, you're responsible for this – and don't bother trying to hide from me."

Before Kinsey could do more than just stare at the number, Nate turned on his heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He had a few people he needed to go see, and that would give Kinsey time to make whatever phone calls he had to make.


	9. 09

The Coffee House was a large coffee shop located behind an equally large shopping mall with a huge parking lot filled with people that weren't actually getting coffee just then; they were shopping and taking advantage of the convenient parking. This worked well for the manager of The Coffee House, because he knew that even though the customers were going shopping, when they returned to their cars a large portion of them always felt guilty enough for taking advantage of the parking and would invariably come into the shop for at least a cup of coffee – and usually to go. Which cut down on how much the staff had to clean up after them.

Of course, a coffee shop that large was never actually empty, and when River Hayden walked through the door and looked around, he realized that he was probably going to have trouble finding the guy that he was supposed to meet – a Mr. John Smith. River didn't have any trouble believing that John Smith was the guy's name – he had gone to high school with a guy named John Smith, and even better, had actually dated a girl named Jane Doe. What most people thought would be a joke; River took as a matter of course.

There were two different rooms in The Coffee House. One was more of a café than anything else, with small tables and booths for the customers to sit in. The other room was more relaxed; filled with small sofas and easy chairs and a shelf filled with books and magazines that people could read or browse through while enjoying their coffee – and donuts or whatever else they might get to snack on with their drinks.

Luckily for River, John Smith was watching for him, and as the blonde Californian walked through the front door, the well-tailored man got up from the booth he'd been sitting in and came over to intercept him.

"River Hayden?"

Hayden turned and gave the man an easy smile, holding his hand out.

"Yes, sir."

Smith smiled as well, glad that this kid seemed far more easygoing than his friend Brooks had been.

"I'm John Smith."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"And you." Smith turned towards the counter. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee? A pastry?"

River shrugged.

"Sure, if you want."

The two of them went to the countered and ordered coffee and River selected a cinnamon roll while Smith chose a muffin, and when they'd been handed their order and Smith paid for it, he turned once more to River.

"I have someone I'd like you to meet, River – I can call you River, can't I?"

"Sure." He looked around, though, wondering who he was supposed to be meeting. "I thought you were here to talk about my dad…?"

Smith gave him another smile, and shrugged.

"I would… but first my friend would like to meet you."

With that, he turned and headed for the casual room, certain that River's curiosity would compel him to follow. Sure enough, a moment later River walked into the room as well.

OOOOOOOOO

The phone rang before Nate had even made it back to his car – which was his first clue that it wasn't Kinsey calling. The number on the caller ID was his second guess, and before he answered it, he carefully schooled his expression, knowing that how he felt would be a dead giveaway in his voice – and he definitely didn't want the person calling to know what he was up to.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Where are you?"

He smiled.

"Out with a hot looking blonde woman – soaking naked in a bathtub filled with rose petals and eating caviar."

Maggie Brooks laughed – and that laugh made Nathan's smile broaden as he gestured for the valet to bring him his car. There was no ticket; the valet was well aware which car belonged to the large man with the cold eyes, and he hurried to bring it around.

"So… when you're done with your floozy you can call me back and tell me why you're not at home mowing the lawn like you promised me you would…"

Bah. The lawn. He'd forgotten all about it in the events of the last day.

"I finished the lawn already," Nate assured her. She was out of the country – she'd never know the difference, right? "So I'm celebrating…"

"_Finished_ it, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You edged the lawn?"

"Of course."

"_And_ weeded the flower bed?"

"Definitely."

"_And_ mulched the roses?"

He frowned. None of those things were things he'd promised to do, and now he was pretty sure that Maggie knew he hadn't mowed the lawn and was taking advantage of his guilt to get him to do all sorts of things that he had absolutely no desire to do. _Bah_.

"Um… yeah…"

She laughed, confirming his suspicions.

"I'm going to hold you to _all_ of that, Nathan."

He shook his head; he knew when he started that she probably wouldn't have bought it. He took his keys from the valet and started the car.

"Yes, dear. Are you having a good time?"

"Sold out all week."

"Good."

"So... what are you _really_ doing?"

"I'm down in D.C."

"Don't get into any trouble."

"Me?" He gave her his best innocent voice, and she laughed again.

"I'm too far away to bail you out of jail, Nathan, and I'll tell Ian Piper to leave you there to rot until I get home…"

"And who'll mulch your roses if you do that?"

There was a hesitation, and he knew he'd won the verbal sparring – not something that happened often.

"Just stay out of trouble."

"Yes, dear."

"I'll call you later, okay?"

"I'll be here."

"I love you."

"Don't ever forget that."

She laughed again, but her next words were serious.

"Never."

He smiled, too.

"I love you, Maggie."

She hung up, and Nate sighed, reminded once again just how lucky he was.

OOOOOOO

"How many fucking coffee shops does one city need?"

Shawn sighed as he got back into Ian's car, shutting the door and buckling his seatbelt.

"Just be grateful that we don't have to order something everywhere we look…"

"He'd better be in trouble," Ian said, starting the car. "Or I'm going to kill him for putting me through this shit…"

Ignoring the threat because he knew it wasn't even a good one, Shawn shrugged.

"Let's try that big one by the Mall next…"


	10. 10

Smith led River over to a good-looking guy sitting in one of the easy chairs nursing a cup of coffee that he hadn't tasted.

"River Hayden, meet Phillip Morgan."

Morgan stood, smiling and holding his hand out to River, who juggled his coffee and roll and a moment later took his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, River."

River decided that things were not as they appeared. He wasn't as suspicious as his roommates – few people were as suspicious as Ian, in any event – but he wasn't dumb, and the men in front of him certainly didn't seem like surfers to him.

"What's going on?" He asked, taking his hand back. "Why do I get the feeling neither of you even know who my dad _is_…?"

Morgan smiled, wryly. A calculated smile designed to put River back into a comfort zone, since he knew things could go bad very quickly if the boy grew too defensive before they had a chance to talk.

"I do know who your father is, River – and your _mother_, too. First rate surfers, both."

Of course he did; he'd read River's file.

"And you're _really_ here to get me to pass on a gift for them?" River didn't sound so assured, and Morgan knew it was time to come clean.

"Not exactly."

"Yeah, I didn't think so." The Californian was just a bit miffed – his weekends were precious free time and he'd just wasted part of one. He set his coffee and roll down on the small table beside the chair Morgan had been sitting in. "Have a good day, gentlemen."

"Wait, River," Morgan said, quickly. "We didn't come to discuss surfing – or your parents – but we _do_ need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About what's going on below Cheyenne Mountain."

River scowled – something he didn't do nearly as often as certain other cadets did – and shrugged, wondering what the heck they were talking about. Cheyenne Mountain was where NORAD was, and where Jack and Sam worked – along with Daniel, Teal'c and now Ian.

"You called in the wrong person," he said. "I don't have a clue what's going on there."

"Would you _like_ to know?"

River's scowl turned into a confused frown.

"Not especially. Deep space telemetry isn't all that thrilling, truth be told."

He turned to go.

"What if I told you there was far more going on there than what you think there is?" Morgan asked.

River knew there was. He knew there was a research and development area down there, because he knew that's what Sam did – and presumably Ian as well. But it was still not all that interesting. The only new technology he cared about was aviation technology – and there weren't a lot of airplanes in the mountain, he already knew that.

He didn't even turn back, instead heading for the door. Only to have a stranger come through it – another well-tailored man who _had_ to be with Morgan and Smith – blocking his path.

River scowled, looking back at Morgan and Smith. It wasn't like he was all that worried. They were in a public place, after all, even though this particular room was deserted. It wasn't like he couldn't call for help if they threatened him.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Morgan frowned.

"That particular language is uncalled for, Mr. Hayden. I just want a chance to talk to you – and explain to you what I want."

"I don't _care_ what you want," River told him. "Tell your goon to move before I move him."

"He's not threatening you, Mr. Hayden," Morgan said. "Relax, okay? Aren't you even curious what Ian Brooks is doing that keeps him away from the Academy?"

Well… yeah, he was – a _little_. Not enough to ask Ian, who would probably smirk at him and give him some smart assed answer.

"How do _you_ know what he's doing?" River asked. "It's secret-"

"Because I'm with a group that firmly believes what he's doing is far too important to be overseen by the Military."

"You're not military?"

He'd assumed that they all were. How else would they have known about Cheyenne Mountain?

Morgan smiled and shook his head.

"No. I'm not."

"Then how do you know what Ian's doing-"

"Because someone has to pay for it – and that means politicians are involved."

"You're politicians?"

"I work for some, but no, I'm not a politician."

"Then-"

"Mr. Hayden… please… come sit down and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Well aware that he could leave any time he wanted to – even with the guy at the doorway – River debated doing what he was asked, trying to decide if he was interested enough to stay. And decided he was. He walked back over, but didn't touch the coffee or roll, and didn't sit down.

"What do you know?"

Morgan smiled, but made sure it wasn't a gloating smile.

"First of all, have you ever heard anyone use the term '_Stargate'_?"

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm starving," Ian complained as he slammed the door to the convertible closed, pocketing his keys. "If this place sells anything more substantial than a cookie, we're going to stop and eat – even if Hayden isn't here."

Shawn nodded. Ian had been far more patient than he'd really expected – and Shawn wasn't positive why, but he was grateful for it. He deserved a break – and besides, Shawn was hungry, too.

"Sounds good. I'll even buy."

"Even better." Ian started to say something else, but then he spotted the black suburban in the parking lot on the other side of the building, seeing it through the large glass windows that made up the front portion of the coffee shop. He actually did a double-take, because he couldn't believe it was the same car. But the license plate was a dead giveaway, and Ian remembered the number easily.

"Son of a _bitch_…"


	11. 11

By the time Morgan had finished telling River the history of the Stargate program on Earth – with just a little modification – River had ended up sitting down on the arm of one of the sofas, listening with rapt attention as he was told a story that sounded far more fiction than fact – but was just enough fact to be believable.

Especially in light of some of the whacked out things he'd seen the last year – including some technology that was just way too advanced to be American – or even Japanese for that matter. The device that had beamed them out of that mess when they'd been kidnapped, for instance, and those invisible guys that he'd been told were escaped political prisoners. How would escaped prisoners get their hands on something like that? And where in Colorado Springs would they have escaped from? And why were there so many armed guards under NORAD if it was just a research and development area? He'd been there. He'd seen them. And why would there even be an infirmary there? There couldn't be that many explosions from messed up experiments. But, if people – teams of people – were going through this Stargate and running into hostile aliens, then of course they'd need a place to be fixed up – a place that was far from the public eye.

And that might explain some of Ian's recent injuries, as well.

The more he listened, the more things fell into place. And the crazier it all seemed. But it also brought up new questions – and River was never one to refrain from asking questions.

"So…"

Morgan paused when River interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Why are you telling me about this? This stuff has to be _Top Secret_, at least – if not higher. I'm not cleared for this kind of-"

"I'm not in the _military_, River," Morgan said. "I told you; we work for a group of people who have a different idea of how the Stargate should be used."

"But the military controls the Stargate…"

"The Stargate under Cheyenne Mountain, yes."

"There's more than one?"

Morgan hesitated. He wasn't ready to divulged all that many of the Trust's secrets until he was certain of the boy's loyalties. And at the moment, he wasn't.

"If there _was_?" He asked. "What do _you_ think it should be used for?"

OOOOOOO

Jason Pleasant was one of the men that traveled and worked with John Smith. Most of the time he was simply there to run errands that Smith couldn't – and sometimes look intimidating. At the moment his responsibilities were to keep people away from the back room of The Coffee House. It hadn't been that hard to convince the manager of the place (with the help of a couple hundred bucks) to let them monopolize it for the discussion between Hayden, Smith and Morgan, but he and his partner Andrew Bennett were still required to stand near the door and keep people from going in there, politely informing them that the room was off limits for the moment. Because of his size, and the way he was dressed – he loved looking like a spook, because it drew attention and respect from the regular run of the mill type people – most customers didn't even argue, they just turned away and headed for a booth.

"Crap."

Bennett's oath drew Pleasant's attention towards the front of the coffee shop.

"What?"

"We've got problems."

Bennett had just happened to glance out the window when the convertible pulled up into the parking lot. The fact that it had looked familiar drew his attention to it, and the minute he saw who was driving it he felt an instant of panic that had nothing to do with their secret getting out, and everything to do with the big gun that had been pointed at him the day before. He'd forced that down immediately, of course, disgusted with himself for even feeling that way – and had turned to Pleasant before the car had even stopped.

Pleasant walked over to the window as well, accidentally bumping a patron and making him spill his coffee.

"Hey!"

"Sorry."

Absently, he handed the man a twenty, and then headed for the back room. This was bad.

OOOOOO

"I don't know," River said, shrugging. It wasn't like he'd had a lot of time to ponder the question. "I suppose if-"

He was interrupted by the arrival of the man who had initially blocked his way out of the room. Morgan looked over as Pleasant came through the door, a reprimand already on his lips when he saw the worried look in his underling's expression.

"What is it, Jason?"

"We have a problem, Sir," Pleasant said, softly, not willing to tell him what it was with Hayden in the room.

Morgan looked over at Smith, who stood up and headed for the door, correctly taking the look to mean he was supposed to go check it out. He didn't even make it to the door.

"Shit."

Smith wheeled, turning to Morgan, who was ready to tell him off for using profanities.

"We need to _go_! _Now_."

River frowned.

"What's going on?"

Morgan stood up, now, and went to the door as well, ignoring River's question. Looking out the door, across the room and following Bennett's gaze out the large front window, he was hard pressed to muffle a curse of his own. He knew who Ian Brooks was by the photo in his file, of course – and there was no doubt that the young man standing beside the sports car with him was Jack O'Neill's son. He looked just like him.

"How did they find us?" he asked Smith.

"I-"

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?" Morgan asked a mystified River.

"No. Just that I was coming downtown to meet someone. What's-"

"We have to go, Mr. Hayden," Morgan said, already heading for the emergency exit that was in the back of the room. He and his men had disabled the alarm without the manager knowing, in the event that they'd need to make a hasty exit. But none of them had ever expected this to be the reason why they'd need to leave. "I'd like to finish this conversation, though, somewhere else. Will you come with us?"

River frowned, and shook his head.

"I don't-"

Pleasant came up behind him, already heading for the door, and grabbed him by the arm – while Smith did the same from the other side.

"Hey!"

Smith's hand came up, covering his mouth, and both men tightened their grips as River started struggling, yelling at them from behind Smith's hand, his curses muffled.

"Relax, River," Morgan said as he opened the door, the bright afternoon sunshine pouring in and blinding them all momentarily. "We're not going to hurt you. But I really want to finish this conversation without interruption."

OOOOOOOO

"What's up, Ian?" Shawn asked, wondering what had the New Yorker so pissed off all of the sudden.

Ian didn't answer, instead reaching for his glove box, and then hesitating. It wasn't exactly like he was in the middle of nowhere, after all, and there was really no way he'd risk something happening with the Glock and some innocent bystander getting hurt. Besides, it was a public place. There was no way those guys were going to try pulling guns on him here.

"Stay here, Shawn," Ian said, heading for the door of the coffee shop.

"No way…"

Shawn wasn't under Ian's command, and knew he didn't have to do what he'd been told to do. Besides, he wanted to know what was going on. When Ian opened the door to The Coffee House, Shawn was right behind him – and both of them saw the well dressed men in the dark suits vanish into the other room – although only Ian knew they were the ones they were looking for.

Ian broke into a sprint, heading for the doorway, and Shawn was right behind him, scattering confused customers and drawing the attention of the manager, who was about to yell at them for disrupting things. Then a shot rang out in the back room, and everyone was suddenly yelling and screaming, and diving for the floor.


	12. 12

The good thing about being the Vice President was that even on Saturday, you could pretty much get a hold of anyone on the phone. Even retired admirals.

"This is Leaf."

It wasn't the most professional way to answer the phone, but Leaf wasn't in the Navy anymore and he didn't _have_ to answer the phone professionally. Besides, it was _Saturday_, and no one should ever call him on Saturday.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Leaf's eyebrows raised at the fury in the voice of the Vice President – something he'd never heard before. At seventy-one, Leaf was far too old to be intimidated by anyone – including Kinsey – but it was an impressive rage, nonetheless.

"What do you mean, Bob?"

"I mean, I want to know what the hell your men are doing in _Colorado_ right now."

Leaf narrowed his eyes.

"Are you using a _secured_ line, Bob? I don't-"

"Yes! It's a goddamned secured line, you stupid sonofabitch!"

Kinsey was absolutely furious, and the longer he'd waited for his secretary to get hold of Admiral Leaf, the angrier he'd grown. He was in a position that he had no business being in – and he was certain it was Leaf's fault.

"Relax, Bob… what's wrong with you?"

"What's _wrong_ with me? What did I tell you about going near that Brooks kid? What did I _say_ about that? I told you not to, didn't I? And what do I hear, now? That Smith and Morgan are _both_ in _Colorado Springs_ – and don't think for a fucking minute I don't know what they're doing there!"

Leaf scowled.

"You gave me full authority in this organization, Kinsey," he said, dangerously. "That means I get to choose who I recruit and who I leave a-"

"Not Ian brooks, you stupid basta-"

"_Anyone_!" Leaf roared, interrupting, and spilling his orange juice on himself when he lurched to his feet – even though Kinsey wasn't there to intimidate with the move and his Poodle was hardly impressed. "That kid is _exactly_ what this organization needs, and I'm not going to pass that up just because you're afraid of his father!"

Kinsey wasn't afraid of Nathan Brooks. Well, yeah…. He _was_ afraid of Nathan Brooks, but Brooks wasn't the one who terrified him the most. The woman terrified him the most – and right behind her was the boy himself.

"Let me tell you something, Leaf…" Kinsey said, his voice dangerously low and not at all weasel-like as it normally was. "You just tossed a whole pile of shit into the fan on this one, and you're going to get splattered with it, because there's no way I'm going to take the fall for this."

"For _what_?" Leaf asked, scornfully. "No one knows anything, Kinsey."

"Brooks knows someone's fucking with his kid."

Leaf felt just a stab of worry at that particular statement. Truth be told, Nathan Brooks wasn't someone Leaf knew all that well, but he knew the man was as dangerous as they came – and once he'd retired, when you'd have thought he'd mellow out a bit, Brooks had shown an aptitude for making waves in the political arenas as well – even though he didn't participate in politics, himself.

"How do you know _that_?"

"Just trust me on this one; I know. You need to call off whatever you've got your people doing and tell them to get the hell away form Colorado Springs."

Leaf hesitated a minute, and then shook his head, scowling once more.

"No. I'm not going to let anyone tell me how to run this organization – not you. Not Nathan Brooks. Not anyone. You have a _problem_ with that, you can come see me, instead of calling."

The retired admiral hung up the phone with a click and sat back down, still fuming. He wasn't used to having anyone challenge his authority, after all, and it had been a long time since anyone had called him a stupid sonofabitch. He thought about calling Morgan to let him know what was going on, but decided against it. Morgan was a professional, and didn't need him looming over his shoulder while he did his job.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Kinsey was still furious when he dropped his phone into the cradle. Any kind of challenge to his authority was enough to anger him – and Leaf was about as good as it came when it came to challenging authority. He steepled his hands in front of him, and glanced down at the napkin on his desk.

"He wants a _problem_…?" Kinsey murmured to himself, reaching for the phone once more and pulling the napkin close so he could see the neat handwriting on it. "I'll give him a _huge_ one."

OOOOOOOOOO

Just as Ian and Shawn were charging into the back room, Bennett and Morgan were hustling out the back door to that room. At the sight of the two coming at them, Bennett pulled his gun; reacting to the stab of fear he'd felt earlier and not thinking all that clearly. Just as he'd pointed it in the direction of the boys – really, intending to scare them, not really shoot them – Morgan shouted and jerked his hand down. The gun went off with an amazingly loud report, and Morgan snatched it away before Bennett could even thing twice.

"Are you out of your _mind_?" He screamed. "How am I supposed to _recruit_ him if you're _shooting_ at him?"

He grabbed Bennett by the back of the collar – not a mean feat for someone who was several inches taller than him – and pushed him towards the suburban, where Smith and Pleasant were trying to get River Hayden into the back seat. The Cadet was putting up a struggle, though, and the two men were having a tougher time than they'd have ever believed. Bennett tripped, and fell, but Morgan didn't bother to help him up; he was too disgusted with him.

"Let's go!" Morgan shouted, getting behind the wheel and slamming the door closed.

OOOOOOO

"Fuck!"

As soon as Ian raced through the door, the first thing he saw was a gun pointing at them. And the first thing he did was push Shawn to the floor, protectively. The gun went off as the younger cadet stumbled, and Shawn let out a yelp that Ian assumed was from surprise. He ignored it for the moment, and headed for the door, just in time to hear what the strange man had yelled at the one who'd fired the shot. They were all getting into the suburban when Ian exited the Coffee House, and the big engine was already roaring to life. It was slammed into reverse before Ian could do anything, and he wished he'd had his Glock then, because he could clearly see the face of the man behind the wheel – which meant he could have shot him.

Instead, the suburban was put into drive and Morgan headed it towards the exit of the parking lot, tires squealing and smoking, and a fuming Brooks standing there rooted to the spot for just a second.

"Fuck!"

He turned, looking at Shawn, who had materialized next to him; uncertain what was going on and holding his arm at an odd angle.

"Come on!"

Ian reached out and grabbed Shawn by the collar – imitating without realizing it the way that Morgan had grabbed Bennett – and pulled him along the sidewalk around the building and back to his car.

"Get in!"

Shawn hastened to obey, and Ian got behind the wheel, his dark eyes watching where the speeding SUV was going as he started his car and put it in reverse. A moment later, ignoring the shouts and yells of those who had been in the Coffee House, Ian's convertible tore out after the suburban.


	13. 13

Samuel Leaf had almost recovered from the indignity of being chewed out over the phone by the Vice President of the United States when he was faced with another confrontation – this one far more serious.

He'd just settled down to watch a baseball game – it was still early enough in the season that it was new and exciting for him – when there was a loud, angry knocking on his front door.

Cursing because there was no one else at home – and who the _hell_ was coming over on a Saturday anyways? – he launched himself to his feet, dropping the remote control and almost tripping over the Poodle, who had headed for the door as well, yapping loudly and wagging his tail excitedly.

Leaf jerked the door open, ready to do some serious yelling of his own, and stopped cold. Standing on his front porch, literally looming over the short retired admiral was Nathan Brooks. Although they'd never met – why would he ever need to meet him? – Leaf knew who the man was by sight. Brooks was a generation behind him – a graduate from the Air Force academy – which Leaf didn't count as anywhere near as impressive as graduating from Annapolis like he had. He'd seen him several times in different functions over the years, however, but had never been this close to him – and had never seen him so angry.

"Brooks…"

Nathan shouldered past Leaf, easily forcing his way into the house, not saying a word as he did so.

"Hey! I-"

Brooks stopped and turned, his hand reaching out and grabbing Leaf by the neck, pulling him right up to him. Leaf felt his stomach clench in fear and his heart started pounding as he felt his throat constricting in the powerful grip. The retired General's blue eyes were hard, cold and absolutely merciless, and Leaf was certain he was a dead man. He struggled in the grasp, trying to force out words around a windpipe that was literally being choked off.

"Brooks!"

It wasn't all that intelligible, but Nathan could understand it, and he read the fear in the old Admiral's eyes easily.

"You know who I am, Leaf… that's _good_."

Leaf gurgled, and Nate relaxed his grip just enough that the retired admiral could take a quick breath.

"What do you want?"

"You're fucking with my son."

The hand tightened as if the very thought of that infuriated Nate – which it did, of course – and Leaf gurgled again, trying to shake his head in denial.

"Don't _lie_ to me, you sonofabitch," Nate snarled. "I know all about your men who tried bullying him yesterday, and I don't _like_ it."

"Nathan-"

"Listen to me closely, Leaf, because I'm only going to say this once. You're going to call them off – now."

"But-"

The hand squeezed tighter than ever, and Leaf knew that the only thing that was going to save his life was the right answer. Since he couldn't speak – not around the vice grip on his throat – he nodded as well as he could, and was rewarded by a loosening of the hand. Brooks pushed him away, sending him to the floor where he gasped for breath, his hand massaging his neck as he looked up at Brooks, trying to get the nerve to glare at him but too afraid of him just then to even consider trying to intimidate him. Which was probably just as well, because the retired special forces general pulled a Beretta out of his belt and pointed it at him.

The smell of urine was suddenly permeating the living room, and Leaf cringed, certain that he was going to die for glaring at Brooks.

"You have a call to make, Admiral," Brooks told him.

Leaf didn't even hesitate. He scrambled to his feet, and reached for the phone.

OOOOOO

The suburban had a powerful engine, and Morgan was a superb driver, but he was having trouble losing the convertible that was following him. Of course, he didn't know that Ian's convertible was tweaked. It was probably the fastest car in the state of Colorado – maybe even the fastest in the country. Ian hadn't actually opened it up to find out just how fast it could go, but he knew what it was capable of. After all, he'd done the tweaking, using technology that GM and Ford and the others didn't have access to.

Ian was just as good a driver as Morgan, too. Years of driving too fast in the crowded streets of New York was good practice for the chase that he was in now, and he easily weaved in and out of the cars that were between his and the SUV, while Shawn clutched the dash board, his face pale.

"We should call the cops!"

"I don't have my cell phone," Ian said, down-shifting to turn a corner without hitting the brake.

"What?"

"I don't have my fucking phone," Ian repeated.

"What are we going to do?" Shawn asked, wondering how Ian could be so calm.

"We'll see where they end up."

Ian looked over at Shawn, then, and almost wrecked the car.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Shawn's sleeve was soaked with blood, startling red against the white shirt.

Shawn's hand went protectively to his arm.

"I think I got shot…"

"Fuck."

Watching the Suburban ahead of him, Ian took his right hand off the stick and reached out and touched Shawn's arm, trying to gauge how badly hurt he was. He couldn't focus on the arm and driving at the same time, however, and he had to move hi hand to up-shift once more.

"Are you okay?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Shawn said. "I think."

"Let me know if that changes…"

"What's going on, Ian? Who are these guys?"

Ian didn't answer, though. He'd already turned his attention back to the car chase.

OOOOOOOOO

"Who the fuck are you guys?"

River was pressed tight on both sides by Pleasant and Smith, and was still struggling against the hands that were holding him tightly.

"I'm sorry about this, River," Morgan said, looking at him in the rearview mirror. "This is not my idea of-"

A cell phone ringing interrupted him, and he frowned, looking at the phone sitting on the dash, and then over at Bennett.

"Get that."

Bennett nodded, reaching for it.

"Hello?"

He looked over at Morgan, and swallowed.

"It's Admiral Leaf, sir."

"Tell him I'll call him back…"

Who ever called in the middle of a car chase? Of course, Leaf didn't know they were in the middle of a chase, but still… phones never rang in the movies at such an inopportune time.

"He says it's important."

What Leaf had actually said was '_get him on the phone or I'm going to kill you both_' but Bennett didn't feel the need to share that.

Morgan reached for the phone.


	14. 14

Being chased while trying to talk on the phone wasn't something Morgan was very good at, and he slowed down a little because of it.

"This is Morgan."

"Morgan, this is Leaf. Whatever you're doing over in Colorado Springs, I want you to stop it. _Immediately_."

If he hadn't been driving, Phillip Morgan would have stared at the phone in disbelief. Leaf was the one who had sent him here, and was ultimately responsible for what had happened the last couple of day – _and_ for the car chase he was in just then.

"Sir? I don't think I heard you correctly…"

"You _heard_ me just fine, goddamn it!" Leaf's voice was almost shrill, and Morgan wondered what the heck was going on, because the older man sounded almost terrified. "Stop it! _Now_!"

"I'm afraid that would be difficult, sir…" Morgan said, then accidentally dropped the phone when he almost lost control of the SUV trying to turn a sharp corner one-handed and going way too fast.

Bennett scrambled for it, and by the time he picked it up off the passenger side floor they could both clearly hear Leaf yelling at them that he didn't give a shit how difficult it would be, he wanted then to stop immediately. Bennett handed the phone to Morgan again, knowing the last person _he_ wanted to talk to just then was Leaf, and clutched the leather handle above the passenger side window, bracing himself as they turned sharply once more.

River had had enough.

The cadet had been watching the traffic ahead of them, skipping back and forth between afraid to concerned and then back to afraid again. He wasn't so much worried about himself; but he could just see them ramming the big SUV into some innocent person's car and killing someone who hadn't been doing anything more dangerous than grocery shopping or going for a weekend drive, and he couldn't stand that thought.

The Californian didn't know who was chasing them that Morgan was so afraid of, or who the Admiral Leaf guy was that Morgan was talking to, but he didn't care, really. He just wanted this mad dash through the streets to stop, and the moment he saw they had reached an industrial area – no houses or shoppers and far less traffic – he made his own move.

Diving forward, startling Pleasant and Smith both, River went between the passenger and the driver's seat, and grabbed the steering wheel in his hands, turning it sharply to the right.

"Hey! Don't-"

Morgan hadn't been expecting anything from the mostly quiet passenger, and had been far too absorbed with his driving and the conversation with Leaf to watch him in the rearview mirror like he had been earlier. He dropped the phone once more and grabbed the wheel with both hands, trying to correct the turn. But it was far too late. The big SUV slammed into a telephone pole going way too fast – although its momentum had slowed a little because of the turn – and came to a crashing halt.

None of them were wearing seatbelts, but River was the worst of them because he wasn't even in a seat, and when the suburban slammed to a stop, the Californian went crashing through the already shattered front windshield and went tumbling off the mangled hood, rolling to a stop several feet away and lying still, bloody and limp.

Morgan slammed into the steering wheel, but the airbag had deployed, and instead of cracking his face on the hard wheel, he instead slammed into an almost solid pillow. The buckling front end of the car smashed into his legs, however, pinning him in his seat and eliciting a scream of pain from him before he passed out.

Bennett, who was in the passenger seat, was also thrown through the windshield, but his leg snapped as it, too, was caught by the buckling front end. Shrieking in terror and shock, he tumbled across River's inert form, and went still when his head slammed into the pavement.

The two men in the back seat were a little better off – kind of. Both were slammed into the back of the seats in front of them, breaking bones, but the main force of the impact had been absorbed by the people in the front of the SUV, and the more or less cushioned seatbacks gave them a little protection as they crashed. Neither passed out, although both were dazed, and Smith's hand came up to his face, where he could feel the trickle of blood along his cheek.

"Shit!"

Ian's convertible came to a screeching halt the minute the SUV crashed, and both of them saw the horrifying sight of River and another man tumble out in front of the demolished rig. Shawn couldn't believe what he was seeing, because he hadn't until that moment actually understood why they were chasing the SUV and wondered how Ian had known.

"Oh, my God!"

Both of them jumped out of the car – the top was down and neither used their doors – but Ian grabbed Shawn before he could take a step towards the wrecked SUV. Luckily, he grabbed him by the _uninjured_ shoulder.

"Get my gun, Shawn."

Shawn hesitated, but nodded, and turned back to the car while Ian rushed around the now-smoking suburban and dropped down next to River's unconscious form. Without concern for Bennett, he pulled the man off his roommate, ignoring the groan of pain, and rolled him out of the way, and then turned to River, his heart pounding as he took in the battered and bloody Californian.

Resting one hand on his friend's bloody chest, Ian closed his eyes allowing his awareness or whatever it was that the Ancients called it, to sink into River, searching for the worst of the injuries, much in the same way he'd checked little Jake O'Neill – and for that matter, Sam – when they'd needed him. There were numerous injuries, most of them not all that serious. The few that were, were the ones that Ian took care of, quickly and without conscious thought. He simply allowed that healing energy that he now knew how to tap into to flow from him into River, mending punctured lungs and other organs and realigning a broken skull and seriously mangled and broken leg.

The other injuries would heal without his help, and when Ian opened his eyes, he looked down at River who didn't look quite so pale anymore and wasn't having trouble breathing. The Californian had a nasty cut on his forehead – which had also been where his skull had been fractured – but Ian didn't have time to heal the little things. He couldn't leave Shawn to face whoever else might have survived alone. Gasping and trying to catch his breath, feeling a weariness that threatened to make him pass out, Ian stood up, double checking to make sure the guy that he'd pulled off River wasn't going to be a threat once he'd turned his back on him. Then he turned back to the SUV, looking for Shawn.

The glove box had been locked, and it'd taken Shawn precious minutes to pull the keys out of the ignition and unlock the car. One hand wasn't working quite right and was slippery with blood, making it that much more difficult. By the time he pulled Ian's Glock out of the car and rushed over to see what needed to be done, he could hear sirens in the background. And breathed a sigh of relief.

The back door of the SUV opened, and a man tumbled out, landing on the ground in front of Shawn, who turned the gun on him. He knew one of these guys was armed – he'd been shot, after all – and wasn't going to take any chances. No matter how messed up they looked.

"Stay put," Shawn ordered.

The man didn't look like he was in any condition to disobey, and Shawn looked up as Ian staggered over.

"You okay?" The New Yorker asked.

"I think I broke my-"

"Not _you_," Ian said, in disgust, looking down at Smith, who had spoken up from where he lay on the ground by Shawn's feet. "I couldn't give a shit less how you feel, you slimy sonofabitch."

"I'm okay," Shawn said.

Ian took hold of Shawn's jacket and pulled him a few steps back and out of reach of Smith – just in case.

"Keep him covered. I'm going to check on the other guys."

Shawn nodded, looking down at Smith, who had closed his eyes, and Ian went to the passenger door and forced it open. One of the guys from the meeting at the jogging track was slumped in the passenger seat, bloody and battered, but alive, and when Ian reached out to check for a pulse, a cell phone clattered to the ground, startling him. He could hear someone shouting from the other end, and stared, amazed.

They'd been talking on the _phone_? Who the fuck made a phone call while being chased and after kidnapping someone?

"_Morgan! Morgan! What happened? What are you doing_?"

The voice was so clear that even Shawn turned to look, and Ian scowled, reaching down and picking up the phone.

"Who the fuck _is_ this?"


	15. 15

Leaf paused when he heard the new voice come on the phone. Not only because of the belligerent mannerism, but because the voice was much younger than any of those people he was sure Smith had with him.

"Who is _this_?" Leaf asked, looking over at Brooks, who was watching him carefully, the gun still deadly in his hand and his eyes cold.

"Ian Brooks. Who wants to know?"

"Ian Brooks…?"

Leaf actually pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Right up until there was the definite sound of a gun cocking. That drew his attention quickly enough back to Nathan, who hadn't missed the name.

"It- he _says_ he's Ian Brooks," the retired admiral said, shakily, wondering what the hell was going on.

Nathan's eyes hardened even more – and Leaf hadn't thought that was possible.

"If this is a _trick_, Leaf…"

"It's not! I-"

"Toss me the phone – carefully."

Leaf did as he was told, careful not to make any sudden movements that Nathan might think was an attempted distraction. The large man caught the phone easily in the hand that wasn't holding the Beretta, and still watching Leaf intently, he put the phone to his ear.

"Who's this?"

There was a surprised hesitation.

"Dad?"

"Ian? Are you all right?"

"What are you-"

"_Goddamn_ it, son, are you all right?"

"Yeah."

Nate couldn't see Ian, but he didn't have to to know that he was scowling. He also sounded incredibly tired.

"What's going on, Ian? How did you get that phone?"

Although Ian was wondering the exact same thing about how his dad had gotten _that_ phone, the cadet answered the question.

"Some guys kidnapped Hayden. We chased them down…"

"Is he all right?"

"He will be. There's cops on the way." Ian could hear the sirens getting closer, and a fire truck was just starting to turn the corner several blocks ahead of them, and he didn't like the thought of Shawn stuck guarding Smith alone. "I need to go, dad. I'll call you back when things are straightened out."

"You're sure you're okay?" He'd never heard Ian sound quite so tired before.

"Yeah…"

"Be careful, son."

"You, too."

They hung up at the same time, and Ian dropped the phone on the ground, ignoring the cracking noise it made. He turned to Shawn, leaning slightly against the door as he felt another wave of weariness wash over him.

"Are you okay?"

Shawn nodded.

"You?"

Ian nodded.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, Adams. Keep an eye on the guy you're guarding – and _don't_ lose my gun."

He walked over to Shawn and put his hand on the younger cadet's shoulder – an action that surprised Shawn, since he'd never seen Ian make such an obvious gesture of friendship before. He suddenly felt a surge of something that he couldn't explain, and the pain in his arm that had settled into a throbbing ache suddenly eased up a bit. Probably just a reaction to his own surprise at Ian's uncharacteristic move, Shawn decided, feeling just a little warm and fuzzy inside at the thought. Maybe they were going to be able to get through to the lighter side of Ian eventually after all.

The fire truck pulled to a screeching halt just then, and as Shawn turned, relieved to have a little more help, Ian suddenly dropped to the ground, unconscious.

"Ian!"

OOOOOOOOOOO

Nathan Brooks hung up the phone thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Leaf, and his expression not changing. Emboldened by the fact that Brooks' son was alive and well, the admiral spoke up.

"See? He's fine. You didn't need to-"

"Shut the fuck up, Leaf."

The admiral did as he was told, and Nate glared at him so intently that he actually felt like squirming.

"What were your men doing with my son?"

"Nothing! I didn't even know he was _with_ them."

"You're lying."

"No!"

He _wasn't_ lying. He hadn't known that Morgan had managed to pick up Brooks, and he wondered how much the man had said to the younger Brooks. And how this was going to affect the Trust. Nathan Brooks was influential and deadly - even more so than he'd expected – and there was no way Leaf would dream of bringing him into the Trust. For that matter, now that he thought of it, he couldn't imagine what he'd been thinking going after the dangerous man's son like he had. He hadn't realized they were so close. All his intelligence had said the two barely spoke to each other.

"Nobody fucks with my family, Leaf," Brooks said, his hand tightening on the gun. "Not you. Not your sycophants. Not even Kinsey."

"I-"

"I didn't tell you that you could speak," Nathan interrupted. "You made a huge mistake. You and Kinsey both. Kinsey's already paid for his, and I'd say it's high time you learned a lesson of your own."


	16. 16

"You want a cup of coffee?"

Jack scowled, looking up at Sam who had come over and leaned over the back of the sofa so she could look down at him. He was stretched out with his leg propped up – something that wasn't necessary, but Fraiser and Sam both insisted – holding Jake and ignoring the way his son was gnawing on his neck.

"I want to get up."

Sam smiled, leaning way over and brushing a kiss against his forehead.

"Too bad. You're supposed to stay off your leg for another day – or I'll have Janet come and take you back to the infirmary."

"Cruel woman."

"Don't forget it."

"How-"

He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone, and reached down without looking to pick the phone up from the floor where he'd left it, one hand holding Jake in place.

"O'Neill."

"Colonel _Jack_ O'Neill?"

The voice wasn't one he knew, and Jack frowned.

"Depends…"

"This is Lieutenant Adrian Morales, Colonel O'Neill."

"_Military_ Lieutenant?" Jack asked, interrupting.

"No, sir. I'm with the Colorado Springs Police Department."

Jack frowned and sat up, and Sam, realizing that something was going on, reached for Jacob so Jack would have more mobility.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I'm calling about your son, Colonel," Morales said. "Apparently-"

"Shawn?" Jack interrupted. Obviously the other son was in Sam's arms, so it wasn't Jake. "Is he okay?"

Sam frowned.

"He's been shot, Colonel O'-"

"What?" Jack lurched to his feet, his voice sharp with sudden concern, and startling Jake, who started whimpering. Jack himself winced when the motion pulled at the stitches in his thigh, but he ignored that pain.

"He's okay," Morales hastened to assure him. "But we-"

"What happened? Where is he?"

"He, River Hayden and Ian Brooks have all been taken to St. Luke's Medical Center."

"What? _River and Ian, too_? Are they okay?"

"What's going on, Jack?" Sam asked, trying to soothe Jake but feeling her own stabs of concern.

He held up his hand, a gesture that promised her he'd explain as soon as he knew.

"They're being checked out right now, Colonel, but we're being told they're not in serious danger."

"Were _they_ shot, too?" Jack asked. "What the hell is going on?"

"We're still trying to piece things together, sir. I'm afraid I can't tell you much more than what I already have, but Shawn insisted that we get a hold of you."

"We're on our way."

"We hope to have more information for you when you get here."

They'd better. Jack didn't say it, but he definitely wanted to. He hung up the phone and looked over at Sam, reaching over and taking Jake back to calm both the baby and himself.

"We've got to get to St. Luke's. Shawn's been shot."

"And River and Ian?" Sam had heard him mention them as well.

Jack shrugged, brushing his lips against Jake's cheek.

"Call Janet, will you? Have her meet us there… I'll get Jake ready."

She didn't say anything about the fact that he wasn't supposed to be on his injured leg. She just nodded, and took the phone from him, and Jack carried Jake back down the hall towards the nursery.

OOOOOO

Morales had a problem. Actually, he had several problems. He had a wrecked SUV, several injured people, one kid _shot_, four men not talking until they could get a hold of a lawyer, one Air Force Academy cadet fairly battered – although he'd been told the kid wasn't as bad as it had first appeared – and one Air Force Academy cadet unconscious for no reason that anyone could tell.

The kid that had been shot hadn't been much help – even though his injury wasn't even close to being life threatening and he'd been able and willing to talk to the police as soon as he'd been patched up a bit. Of course, legally, they couldn't actually ask him all that much since he was a minor, until his guardian or parent arrived, but they were coming. Shawn had told them that he and Brooks had been chasing the suburban, but the kid had admitted that he hadn't even known Hayden was in the SUV until it had crashed, but that Ian had known somehow.

Shawn had assured them Ian hadn't been hurt; had actually seemed mystified about why Brooks was unconscious, but he wasn't the only one, because the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him, either. Which simply added to Morales' problems, because he couldn't call the guy's folks and tell them anything until he had something to tell them, and he couldn't press charges against the kid for speeding through town chasing someone if he'd been chasing someone that had kidnapped someone else. Basically, Morales didn't have a clue what had happened, or what to do about it – and it didn't look like things were going to get any easier on him until the rest of the players involved woke up and started talking. Unless they, too, were going to insist on having lawyers before saying anything.

And then Jack O'Neill arrived at the hospital, and suddenly Morales had even more problems.

OOOOOOOOO

Shawn had been put into a hospital bed, his arm cleaned and bandaged and put into a splint. An IV with mild painkillers and fluids had been started, but he wasn't feeling much pain even before the IV, and he wasn't tired – even though the nurse kept telling him that he should get some rest.

Then the door to the room opened, and Jack came through it, with Sam just behind him, holding Jake.

"Jack…"

O'Neill didn't answer him. He crossed the room – limping, Shawn noticed – and gathered Shawn up into his arms, hugging him tightly for a long time. If Shawn had ever doubted Jack loved him – and he never had – there would have been no doubt then, because he could feel him trembling as he held him tightly, and Shawn felt the sting of tears in his own eyes at the raw emotion he could feel just under the surface of the man holding him.

"I'm okay." He felt he had to assure Jack that everything was all right – even though he was more than willing to hug him back, taking a little comfort from him as well. The events of the day had happened so quickly that he was feeling just a little overwhelmed, and ever since he'd been nine, Jack had been a solid rock for him to lean on when he needed it.

Jack finally pulled away, just enough to drop his arms and give Shawn a quick once over, his eyes taking in the bandaged arm, but also looking for any other injuries he might have missed.

"You're sure?"

Shawn nodded.

"I'm fine. River's hurt, though – and Ian, too, I think – but I'm not sure exactly what happened…"

"Start at the beginning," Jack said. "And tell me what you know."


	17. 17

"So River didn't tell you what this guy wanted that wanted to talk to him?"

Shawn shook his head, looking at all the people in the room – because now the police were in there as well, listening in on the story and taking notes.

"He didn't know. He didn't even know who the guy was – only that the guy said he was a friend of his father's or something…"

Sam frowned.

"Why would someone try to kidnap River? I know his dad is famous and all – but still…"

Jack scowled as well. He didn't like how much this was sounding like the events of the days before Thanksgiving, and wondered if there was a lot more to things than met the eye. If there was, then the police definitely needed to be out of the loop – and there was no way that was going to happen without more information coming out.

"Ian's _mom_ is famous but no one's trying to kidnap him," Shawn pointed out.

"You'd be nuts to try and kidnap Ian," Sam said with a slight smile as she cuddled Jake, who had been dozing but had woken up. "If Ian didn't make you sorry, _Nate_ definitely would."

Shawn turned towards Sam, reminded of something when she'd said that, but hesitated, because he definitely didn't want to mention it with the police in the room. Luckily, before anyone but Sam had noticed the look, a commotion outside the room drew everyone's attention, and they could clearly hear Janet Fraiser's voice.

_"I don't care who's in there with him, I'm going to check him out. I've been his personal physician since he was a little boy and if you don't move out of my-"_

She stopped when Morales crossed the room and opened the door, and they could all see she'd been arguing with the police officer that had been assigned to keep nosy people out of the room while the police interviewed Shawn. Morales had been informed by the O'Neills that Fraiser was coming, but hadn't remembered to let the officer outside the door know.

"Doctor Fraiser, please come in…"

Janet scowled at having been caught yelling, but walked through the door and headed directly for Shawn, who couldn't help but feel just a bit anxious when the formidable woman reached his bed and picked up his chart to take a look. Sam smiled, tweaking Shawn's foot through his blanket, and Janet looked at all the people in the room.

"It's too crowded in here. Some of you will have to leave."

Morales started to object, but Janet leveled him with a look that plainly said whatever he was going to say wasn't going to mean a thing to her, and the Lieutenant sighed and nodded.

"We have enough for now," he said, looking down at the notes he'd taken. "You should probably get some rest, Shawn…"

The police officers that had been in the room all headed for the door, and Janet turned her attention back to the chart, holding up an x-ray of the cadet's shoulder and arm to the light and frowning.

"How does the arm feel, Shawn?" She asked without looking at him.

"It's okay."

"Sore?"

"A little."

Janet frowned again, still looking at the x-ray, and then at the chart.

"That's odd…"

"What is?" Jack asked. He'd been watching Janet intently while she looked at the charts, trying to gauge from her reaction if the injury was serious or if the other doctors had been right when they'd told him it wasn't dangerous.

"There's an entry wound, and an exit wound…"

"That's good, though, right?" Jack asked, confused. Better that the bullet _wasn't_ lodged in his son's arm – as far as he was concerned.

"Except that between the two is Shawn's humerus – his upper arm bone – and the bullet's path was right through it… but it's not broken or injured at all…"

"It _felt_ like it was broken," Shawn admitted. "But it doesn't anymore."

"Probably just shock," Jack said, glad that it wasn't.

"Maybe the bullet bounced off something?" Sam suggested.

Janet frowned.

"There's nothing for it to bounce off…"

She glared at the x-ray for a while longer, but the x-ray wasn't talking to her, and she couldn't figure out any satisfactory answer to the mystery. Finally she shrugged.

"You must have just gotten lucky."

"A lot luckier than River…" Shawn said.

Janet nodded.

"I'm going to go check on him, next."

Since there weren't any police in the room, Shawn brought up the thing that Sam had reminded him of when she'd been talking about Nate.

"When we were checking on the guys – after the crash, I mean – Ian opened up one of the doors and a phone fell out. With someone on the other line yelling. Ian picked it up and asked who it was, and I don't know who it was, but Nathan Brooks probably does."

"Nathan?" Jack asked.

Shawn nodded.

"The next person to come on the line was General Brooks. I remembered when Sam was talking about how someone would be crazy to try and kidnap Ian. Ian had just finished talking to his dad when he collapsed. Right before the ambulance and fire trucks came…"

"I'll give him a call," Jack said, frowning, wondering what on earth Brooks had been doing – and wondering if he'd tell him. "In a bit."

He stood up, ignoring the ache in his leg. Sam looked at him curiously.

"Where are you going?"

"One of those bastards shot Shawn," Jack told her, his voice turning cold and angry. "I'm going to find out which one."

Sam might have protested, telling him that the police would figure it out without Jack's help, but she didn't. She wanted Jack to find out – and she knew that whatever he did to the guy was nothing compared to what he deserved.

"Just be careful of your leg."

Janet frowned, looking at Jack's thigh as if suddenly reminded that he wasn't supposed to be on it.

"Colonel…"

"Relax, doc," Jack said. "I'll walk with you to go check on River, and you can see for yourself that it's not going to fall off – and I'm not going to fall down."

As mad as he was, pure anger would keep him up – even if the leg had been a lot worse than it was. And this way, if River was awake, Jack could ask _him_ if he knew which guy it had been – and save him the trouble of interrogating them himself.

"I'll stay and keep Shawn company," Sam told them, coming over and claiming the pot that Jack had vacated. The cadet might have denied the need for company, but he was really glad that she was staying. He'd like the company just then, and Sam was as good as it came when it came to people who reassured. Even better than Janet Fraiser, because Sam didn't loom over you.

Jack nodded, and opened the door, holding it for Janet, who still looked like she was going to argue, but thought better of it, and shrugged, leading the way out into the hall.


	18. 18

While Shawn had been put in bed in a more or less temporary room, River's room was a few floors up where the hospital was far quieter. Fraiser and Jack walked without speaking, Jack still fuming about Shawn getting hurt – and trying to think of good was of making sure the man who did it would definitely know better than to do something like that again - as soon as he figured out who'd done it - and Janet still pondering the question of Shawn's arm.

When they opened the door to River's room, however, both of them turned their full attention to the Californian, and Jack was glad to see the young man was awake – and _not_ just so he could talk to him.

They walked over, and River turned to look at them, a nasty bruise on the side of his forehead and several little cuts and scrapes, but his face – at least – didn't look too serious. The blonde young man smiled when he saw them, and Jack decided his eyes looked just a little glazed over.

"Colonel O'Neill! Doctor Fraiser!"

He was in a propped up position, so it was easier for him to watch as they crossed the room, and Janet and Jack both saw that he had an IV bag hanging above him, and several monitors attached to various parts of his body, keeping track of all his vitals.

Fraiser reached for the chart hanging by his bed, while Jack moved to the other side, looking down at the young man.

"How are you feeling, River?" Jack asked as Janet opened the file and started glancing through x-rays. There were far more of these for River than there had been for Shawn.

"Good, Colonel… _real_ good…" River turned his attention back to Janet, who was frowning. "Hey… doc…?"

She looked up.

"I'm _naked_…"

Jack smiled.

"And _well-medicated_, too, I see," Janet said, her cheeks reddening just a little, although she couldn't help but smile.

"Oh yeah… they said if I hurt I should tell them, but it felt so funny I kept telling them I hurt long after my hands went numb…"

He held up his hands, staring at them.

"Naked hands…"

"You don't look naked to me," Janet said. "You're wearing a hospital gown…"

River looked down at himself.

"I'm naked _under_ it, though. Wanna see?"

Jack coughed, then. A sound that was suspiciously close to a chuckle. Janet shook her head, and ignored the young man for a moment. He wasn't the first overly doped up patient she'd ever had, after all – and she knew from what she was reading that the medication wasn't going to hurt him.

"How is he, doc?" Jack asked, watching her turn her attention back to the medical chart and watching as her expression turned from more or less amused to perplexed and maybe even slightly annoyed.

She looked up at him.

"He's going to be fine, Colonel."

"Then why do you look like that's a bad thing?"

She scowled.

"It's not a _bad thing_. I'm just confused."

She reached down and pulled River's blanket to the side, baring the left side of his body, and moved the gown a little to look at the Californian's upper thigh.

"I would have shown you…" River said.

"Hush for a minute, River," Janet told him, examining the leg.

"What is it?" Jack asked, looking at the leg as well. It was bruised, but he didn't see anything extraordinarily bad going on there.

"When he came into the ER, the staff did a bunch of x-rays. Because of his head, they also did a CT scan – a Cat scan. The scan showed them evidence of a just-healed but very nasty break in River's upper femur, but I know for a fact he hasn't broken that leg any time recently…"

Jack frowned. Not because this was puzzling, but because he didn't have a clue what the heck she was trying to tell him.

"That's bad?"

"It's _unusual_," Janet corrected. "And odd."

"Like Shawn's arm?"

She shook her head.

"There was no sign of a break on Shawn's arm – even if I thought there should have been."

"Maybe the leg was just cracked or something, and the scan's wrong?"

Janet frowned again. She hated mysteries like this. And Jack wasn't any help. She turned to River again, who was alternating between watching them and staring at his hands.

"River? Have you ever broken this leg?"

"Broke the ankle."

"Not the leg though?"

"The _nekkid_ leg?"

"Never mind…"

She replaced the blanket, making sure to tuck it around him.

"Is he in danger, doc?"

She shook her head.

"From what I can see, he sustained numerous bruises and cuts, but there's not a single broken bone – and no concussion, either… He's going to be sore-"

"I don't hurt at all…" River told them, interrupting.

"But it's nothing as bad as it could have been."

"He got lucky?" Jack hazarded. "Like Shawn?"

She scowled. Janet Fraiser didn't really believe in luck. Not that kind of luck, anyways. And she hated being perplexed.

"I'll take a closer look, later… and do some comparisons."

Jack nodded. He was completely the opposite. He believed in luck, and knew that millimeters could be the difference between life and death – and who was he to complain that River was going to be okay? The real question he had, was motive.

"Why would anyone want to kidnap him, though?"

"They wanted to finish telling me about the Stargate," River told him.


	19. 19

The silence in the room was almost deafening. So intense that the soft beeping of the cardio-monitor was almost thunderous, even. After a moment of stunned silence, Jack frowned, and then gestured to Fraiser, who nodded and headed for the door, double-checking to make sure no one was there. Then she locked it, and came back over to the bed. It wasn't the most secure place to ask questions, but these were important ones, and couldn't wait.

"Where did you hear about the Stargate, River?" Jack asked.

Still examining his naked hands, River shrugged.

"Morgan told me."

"Morgan?"

"The guy that grabbed me." He shook his head. "Actually, Morgan didn't grab me; two of the other guys did – Smith and Pleasant."

Since Jack had been told that none of the men that had been in the suburban had been carrying identification and were refusing to talk, this was news that he needed – if the names they'd given were real ones.

"Which one shot Shawn?"

River looked from his hands over to Jack.

"Shawn? What about Shawn? He wasn't there. He's at school." The Californian sighed. "He wasn't all that sure about me going off to talk to this guy, but I told him it'd be okay – we'd be in public and all that. Looks like he knew what he was talking about… Like that one time when we were in La Jolla over Spring Break and Shawn said-"

"River."

Jack knew the kid wasn't really at one hundred percent, but he didn't have the time – or the patience – to allow him to get too distracted.

"Yeah?"

"What did this Morgan guy tell you?"

"About what?"

"About the Stargate."

Janet was impressed that O'Neill was being as patient as he was, and she appreciated it, because it wasn't River's fault he couldn't focus all that well on what was going on around him.

"That the Stargates are all over the place – on all kinds of planets – and people can go through them, instantaneously, and end up on another planet. There's all sorts of aliens out there that no one here has ever heard of, and some are allies and some are enemies, but they all have technology that could be useful to us – but they won't share it."

Jack frowned.

"Did he say how he knew this?"

"We didn't get that far… he was still telling me about the SGC when all of the sudden one of them comes in yelling that they needed to get going, and all hell broke loose. They grabbed me, and forced me into the car, and…" he trailed off for a minute. "I might have heard a gunshot – at first I thought it was a car backfiring. Shawn was shot, you say? Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Janet assured him.

"Did this Morgan guy tell you if he was working for anyone?" Jack asked. "What organization it was? Anything like that?"

River shook his head, frowning as if it were suddenly aching.

"I don't think so, Colonel… but he might have…"

"Which guy is Morgan?"

River described Morgan and the others as well as he could, but Janet could tell that his attention was really wandering, and she caught Jack's eye.

"He's really doped up, sir. I'm not sure how much of that is reliable…"

Jack shook his head.

"He knows way too much, doc. We can't let them keep him here."

"I can have him transferred to the SGC immediately. He's stable enough to be moved. And we'd probably better get a military guard on his door…"

"Yeah." Jack looked back at River, who had turned once more to his hands, clenching them and then unclenching them. "River?"

The Californian looked up at him with a slightly annoyed look – as if nothing were more important than what he'd been doing.

"Yeah?"

"Pay close attention to this, okay? I don't want you telling anyone else about what Morgan told you. Do you understand?"

"Why not?"

Janet interrupted.

"Because it's a _secret_, River."

"It's not a very good one…"

"Just keep quiet about it," Jack said. "Until I can figure out what the hell to do about it."

Actually, he wasn't going to have to figure it out at all, but he wasn't looking forward to telling Hammond about it – and he knew Hammond wouldn't look forward to telling those that he answered to – namely the President – that someone outside the military seemed to have far more information about the SGC than they should. Good information, too, if what little River had told them was any indication of things.

"Okay."

"You stay with him until I get a guard for him, doc," Jack said. "I'll make sure it's understood that none of the doctors or staff try to talk to him without the guard with them."

"Yes, sir."

"Admiral something or the other…" River suddenly said, looking up from his hands.

"What?"

"Morgan mentioned an admiral… I'm sure it was an admiral…"

"_Which_ admiral?"

"I'm not sure… _Flower_, maybe… _Apricot_? … it was some kind of botany thing… I think…"

Jack scowled, but didn't throttle River like he felt like doing. He just counted to ten. And then counted again, watching and waiting. But River finally shook his head.

"I'm not sure…"

Bah.

Jack sighed.

"I'll go get that guard. You try to sober him up a bit."

River smiled at Fraiser, blissfully unaware of how annoyed Jack was with him, and as Jack headed for the door he heard River speak up once more – obviously talking to Fraiser.

"Did I tell you I'm naked?"

At least he hoped he was talking to Fraiser.

Jack shut the door behind him, and headed for the elevator, shaking his head.


	20. 20

Phillip Morgan was in a real panic. Things had gone badly for him and the men he had working under him; all of them were injured – Bennett was the worst of them with serious injuries sustained in his trip through the front windshield of the suburban, and he'd been told he was in surgery, in critical condition. Of course, that had also been while the police were trying to get Morgan to talk – something he wasn't going to do – so they might have been exaggerating to get him nervous enough to spill everything. It hadn't worked then, but things were getting bad enough that Morgan was really starting to sweat. Something he normally didn't do.

Once the police had given him a phone, Morgan had tried to call Admiral Leaf. Not his _home_ phone, of course – he wasn't that stupid – but they had a special secured line that was just for emergencies like this. The phone call was routed through several different call stations, passing through from one number to the next until the origin of the call was untraceable, and the final destination of the call was unremarkable. There Morgan had left a numeric page – a message telling Leaf that things had gone wrong and Morgan and his team needed assistance getting out of the bind they were in. Leaf should have then returned the call with one equally obscure, placed at a message center based in Seattle Washington where no one would have been able to trace it in either direction, telling Morgan he received the message and things were already in motion to repair any damage.

Leaf had a ton of political clout and the ability to get anyone out of anything – although Morgan had never had to use that ability before today – but the Admiral hadn't made the necessary call to the message service, and Morgan and his team were pretty much high and dry until they heard from him. Which meant they had to ignore the questions the police were asking – which wasn't getting easy – and they were going to have to call in some legal council of their own if Leaf didn't reply any time soon.

He was just debating whether or not to try calling the emergency line one more time – it had been almost two hours, after all, and that was way too long – when the door to his room opened once more, and Morgan felt his stomach tighten slightly in fear when he saw who was walking in.

Colonel Jack O'Neill _wasn't_ someone Phillip Morgan knew personally. He wasn't even someone Morgan _wanted_ to know personally. Because of Leaf – and Kinsey – Morgan had been able to read O'Neill's file a few years back, and a more recent version of it from just a few months ago. What he'd read had confirmed what those who he knew who _did_ know O'Neill had already told him when he'd made a few inquiries; Jack O'Neill was dangerous, and was _not_ someone that they wanted in their organization. Not because he wasn't talented, but because he was unapproachable – an untouchable, as it were. There was no doubting O'Neill's loyalties, and that made him someone to leave alone – which had been the primary reason Shawn Adams was also unapproachable. Not even Leaf had dared risk O'Neill's wrath if he'd found out the Trust was actively pursuing his son.

And now the man was walking through his door, a blank – and very unfriendly – expression on his face, and Morgan wished suddenly that _he_ was the one in surgery, where O'Neill wouldn't be able to find him.

He watched warily as O'Neill walked over to the bed he'd been put in. With both of his legs in solid, heavy casts, there was no way he was going anywhere. Of course, Jack O'Neill didn't know who he was – which was a scant comfort – so maybe he was just going to try and feel him out, to see if he could get any information. Morgan didn't know how badly the Hayden kid was injured – hopefully the trip through the windshield had killed him, because that was the best possible scenario. Then there wasn't a witness to claim they'd taken him against his will.

Of course, it didn't help that Bennett had fired a shot out in public, but Bennett was in surgery and was out of reach of the police. By the time they were able to question him, Leaf was sure to have come through and pulled the team out of the mess they were in. Only the Brooks kid knew who was all involved, and Morgan just had to hope that he hadn't said anything. He was sure that Brooks didn't know him, in any case, which gave O'Neill nothing to go on.

"Can I help you?" Morgan asked, assuming a look of innocent confusion. O'Neill didn't know he knew who he was, after all. That could help, too. All he needed was time.

"Cut the crap, Morgan."

Blanching, Morgan actually flinched – and hated himself for doing it, because he knew that gave away a lot more than just his name to O'Neill.

Jack didn't allow himself to smile, but he felt a smug satisfaction in the reaction from the man in the bed at the sound of his name. Obviously he'd been planning on using his anonymity to keep from being questioned, and Jack had just tossed that out the window by calling him by name. Of course, all he had was the guy's name – and the fact that he had a lot of information about the Stargate that he had no business knowing – but Morgan didn't need to know that, and Jack was very good at making people talk to him when he wanted to be.

Unless of course they were on pain medication.

"What do you want?" Morgan asked, and Jack could hear a slight tremor in his voice that he was obviously trying to hide behind bravado.

"Information."

Jack pulled a small leather pouch out of his jacket pocket and set it on the bed – actually, he set it on one of the plaster casts that covered the man's legs. Too bad they were casted already, he thought, because pain was a really good way to get someone to talk. Luckily, fear was another, and Jack was also good at intimidation when he wanted to be.

"I don't know anything."

"I think you do," Jack said, softly, still not looking at Morgan. Instead, he had pulled a small vial out of his little leather pouch. He knew without looking that he would have Morgan's full attention, after all, and he didn't need to look to verify that.

"I don't."

"We'll find out."

Morgan watched, feeling his mouth go dry, as O'Neill pulled the vial out of the little leather case. It looked like a small shaving kit or something similar, but the small vial wasn't anything so innocent.

"What is that?"

"Something to make you relax…"

Jack pulled a syringe out of the case, next, and uncapped the needle, turning the vial upside down and inserting the syringe into it.

Morgan knew it was just a ploy. He knew O'Neill wouldn't do anything. Not out in public like this. He didn't have the authority to do anything. Certainly not something like this.

"You're _bluffing_."

"Yup."

Jack pulled the plunger back, watching calmly as the syringe filled, and Morgan wondered when he was going to start bluffing.

"You can't do anything. You don't have the authority to…"

"You see anyone in here that can stop me?" Jack asked, still watching the needle.

"I could scream for help."

"You could." His voice was as calm as Morgan was panicked. And they both knew it.

"I don't know anything."

"I'm betting you do."

"I _don't_! Why are you doing this?"

Jack looked at him for the first time, and now Morgan saw fury on O'Neill's face; his eyes suddenly cold and dangerous.

"Because _someone_ shot my son, you piece of dog shit. And I know you know who it was."


	21. 21

While Shawn and River had Janet confused, Ian Brooks had her downright baffled. The room he'd been put into was a quiet one off in the corner. Not an ICU unit, because he wasn't critical. For that matter, the nurse who had taken her to the room confided, they hadn't been able to find anything wrong with him. They just couldn't get him to wake up.

Janet walked into his room, and frowned when she saw him. He hadn't been hooked up to any IV, but they had connected him to several monitors, and when Janet picked up the medical chart she saw that like River, they'd given Ian a CT scan, but she saw that it looked normal – at least normal for Ian, who had always had stepped up brain activities compared to most people. Janet always assumed it was from his perfect memory always processing things in his head (and she was right) so that wasn't abnormal for him.

He'd been put on his back, of course, but Ian was a belly sleeper when he was in his most comfortable, and the New Yorker had rolled over, tangling himself in the monitor wires and burying his head in his arms, which had almost caused him to throttle himself with the cardio monitor wires.

Janet detached the wires and straightened them out, and then looked down at the medical chart again. There wasn't anything wrong with him. He hadn't been injured. He wasn't bleeding, and as far as Shawn had told her they hadn't been involved in a wreck of any sort – they'd stopped on their own, unlike those in the suburban. There was no reason for Ian to be unconscious, but he was.

Actually, to her experienced eye – and she'd had plenty of chances to observe him in a medical setting – he looked like he was sleeping.

"Ian?"

She reached her hand out and brushed it against his cheek, feeling for fever – even though the monitor was showing his temperature was normal. She didn't rely simply on machines, after all.

She frowned, and sat down on the edge of his bed. Even though it wasn't all that large, Ian wasn't a big kid by any means. Her palm ran gently along his cheek and brushed his short black hair back just a little, feeling for bumps in his skull that might be the cause of the slumber.

Ian moved his head slightly in response to her touch, moving away just a little, and Janet smiled. She knew he didn't like to be touched like that – he called it face fondling, and Cassie had told her that he really didn't even like _her_ to do it all that much, which was saying something. It was a relief to see him move, though, because that told her he wasn't unconscious.

"Ian?"

She shook his shoulder, gently.

"Hmm?"

Where had she last seen him acting this way? Janet's smile faded to a frown, and she realized he was acting just like he had after his return with Sam – the day Jacob had been born. Ian had been wiped out, then, too – although then he'd had some reason for it. It wasn't exactly a pattern, though, because when he'd been shot he hadn't acted this way, and there were other times he'd been injured, and he hadn't been so deeply asleep like he was just then. It was nuts, and until she could get him talking to her; she wasn't going to be able to figure out what might have caused it.

"Wake up."

"Go away…"

She scowled.

"Ian..."

He buried his head under the pillow, blocking her out, and Janet sighed, frustrated. Then she stood up and went to the door. There were ways to wake sleepy people up, and she wanted to talk to the doctors in charge.

OOOOOOOO

"I didn't _shoot_ your son!"

Jack didn't even bat an eye.

"I didn't _say_ you did." He actually knew that Morgan _hadn't_ done it – according to River, anyways. "But you know who did. And _I_ want to know, too."

"I don't know anything."

"So you keep saying."

Jack pulled the needle out of the vial, and dropped the vial back into the pouch, pushing slightly on the plunger and causing a slight stream of the clear liquid to shoot out the top. Morgan was watching just as intently. Moreso even.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"I believe you."

Jack turned to the IV bag that was hanging above Morgan's bed, the other end connected to his arm. With speed that Morgan never would have believed if he hadn't seen it, Jack set the syringe down and grabbed his arm, slapping the restraints on Morgan's right arm before he could do so much as flinch. Since the left arm was in a heavy brace – they were waiting on swelling to go down before setting it and there was no way Morgan was going to be moving it any time soon – the man was now effectively immobilized. And terrified.

"Stop!"

Out in the hall a nurse hesitated as she was walking past the door, casting a look that direction. Standing beside the door, however, was a hulking and menacing figure, and when the nurse hesitated, Teal'c moved just a fraction towards the door, silently telling her that he wouldn't allow her past him. He didn't _try_ to frighten her or anything, but Teal'c didn't need to try to frighten people. He did it naturally, he knew.

"They are having a discussion," Teal'c told the nurse in his deep voice. "Do not concern yourself."

She frowned, but wasn't about to challenge Teal'c. Instead, she headed for the nurses' station. There were other people she could tell, and _they_ could see what was going on.

OOOOOOO

"It's not going to hurt you," Jack promised, picking up the syringe once more. "_Much_."

Morgan felt like he was going to throw up suddenly, and his bravery fled completely.

"It was _Bennett_! But it was an accident!"

Jack shook his head, almost sadly. "I don't believe you." He took hold of the IV bag with the hand that didn't have the syringe.

"It's _true_! I swear! We didn't want anything to do with your kid! He just got in the way!"

"What were you doing with River?"

Morgan hesitated.

Jack reached for the IV bag once more.

"Nothing! We were just talking."

"About…?"

"About stuff."

"_That's it_." Jack had lost all semblances of patience, and he set the needle against the small drip section of the IV bag. "We'll do it the hard way."

"No! I was just talking to him about… about…" he hesitated, wondering what O'Neill knew, and how he knew it.

Jack looked at him, expectantly.

"_About_?"

Morgan sighed, helpless. Leaf would have to figure it out, because there was no way he could risk whatever truth serum or whatever it was. If he had the chance, he could at least skirt the truth. If he were on medication, he'd spill everything. They couldn't risk that.

"About joining our… organization…"


	22. 22

"What organization?"

Morgan hesitated. It was a moment too long for Jack, who was already impatient.

"_What_ organization, goddamn it?"

Since O'Neill looked ready to throttle him with his bare hands – forget whatever was in the vial – Morgan blanched.

"The Trust."

"What's that?"

How he wished O'Neill would just ask _simple_ questions that he could lie about! Morgan fleetingly wondered how Leaf was going to spin this fiasco into something that was less harmful, but he answered, because he didn't have a choice.

"It's a group… made up of the remnants of what's left of the NID."

"With the same lack of morals, I suppose?"

He shouldn't have been surprised that the NID had been behind this – even though they'd thought the organization to be disbanded and gone, since they hadn't heard any reports of problems with any of their allies. The people that made up that group had been cockroaches – and obviously survived like cockroaches, too; living well beyond when they should have died out.

Morgan flashed Jack a look of anger, his own frustration boiling out over his fear.

"There's nothing wrong with expecting the people we call allies to share their technology, O'Neill."

"And if they don't, we'll just _steal_ it?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"If we have to."

It was only one small part of the reason Jack hated the NID, but it also wasn't something he was going to debate.

"What does this group… the _Trust_… want with River Hayden?"

"We were hoping to recruit him."

"Why?"

River was far too good a guy – in Jack's opinion – to want anything to do with anyone like Morgan.

"Because."

Jack lifted the syringe, which had been in his hand resting on the cast on Morgan's left leg, and Morgan felt the fear once more rise up in him, taking place of the anger at O'Neill's righteous arrogance.

"Because we need men like him. He's young and intelligent."

"You're holding something back, Morgan…" Jack said, watching the man's face. "What?"

"He's also friends with Ian Brooks – and we _really_ wanted Ian Brooks."

"You're kidding!"

He was amazed that _anyone_ would be interested in Ian joining their secret little society, but only for a moment. Then Jack's own quick mind filled in the pieces. If they wanted intelligent young men, Ian would definitely be at the top of any list. There was no one smarter, and it was very likely the Trust wanted _young_ men because they'd assumed a younger person would be more malleable, or maybe more willing to break the rules to get to any end.

"Why didn't you just ask Ian?" Jack asked. "Why bother with-"

"We did. He wasn't very receptive."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, showing surprise he hadn't actually meant to allow to show.

"You _asked_ him?"

Ian hadn't mentioned anyone approaching him lately.

Morgan scowled.

"We didn't get that far… he wouldn't even listen to what we had to say. The-"

"So you figured to get him by going through his friends…"

"Yes."

"Including my son."

"_No_!" Morgan tried to raise his hand in denial, but the restraint stopped him. "We didn't want anything to do with your son, O'Neill. Him being there wasn't our doing. I was specifically told to keep away from him, and-"

"He got _shot_!" Jack growled. "And whether you _meant_ for it to happen or not, it's your fault you slimy piece of-"

"I didn't _do_ it!"

"Tell me more about why the Trust wanted Ian," Jack said, knowing full well that as scared as Morgan was just then, he'd actually tell the truth. He didn't even need the threat of the syringe, now. "And why you _actually_ thought you'd be able to tell him anything that would get him to join any group of weasels like yourselves."

OOOOOOOOO

Janet held the syringe up to the light, carefully making sure there were no air bubbles in the small tube before placing the needle against Ian's neck. Synthetic adrenaline wasn't something that was all that dangerous – especially for someone young and healthy like Ian was – but an air bubble could be a simple mistake that could kill anyone. And she was far too experienced to screw up like that.

"Okay, young man," she told him, softly, as she injected him. "Time to wake up and tell me what's going on with you."

She couldn't possibly have known what she'd just done.

Ian Brooks was exhausted. Not simply weary, his body had shut itself down, because in healing his two friends, he'd drained himself far beyond that of simply jogging – or anything else that was seriously strenuous, including being badly injured. He needed to restore those resources, and to do that, he needed to sleep. A deep sleep that was mystifying to Fraiser and the other doctors but wasn't dangerous. Unless something was artificially added into his system.

His heart, already strained by the healing he'd done and needing the rest that only sleep could give it – and him – was suddenly stimulated by adrenaline that his body hadn't produced. The great muscle contracted, seizing as the synthetic adrenaline forced it back into full production, the rhythm of its beating going from a gentle lull of sleep to an intense cacophony of forced wakefulness. It skipped a beat, faltering, and then missed another one, and the monitors attached to Ian Brooks started screaming alerts at Fraiser – who suddenly found her young patient in full cardiac arrest.

"Shit!"

She ran to the door, calling for a crash cart, and rolled Ian over onto his back, starting compressions on his chest to try and help his heart find its rhythm once more.

An instant later, a horde of doctors and nurse joined her, and Fraiser started barking out orders to them, baffled at the reaction, but too busy to wonder why it had occired.


	23. 23

It was almost an hour before the nurse found someone willing to go up to the door that Teal'c was guarding. Part of it was because even the doctors were unwilling to challenge him, but another part was that the nurse had said there was shouting coming from inside the door, but all they could hear now was conversation. Not even the best of them could hear what was being said, but they certainly didn't hear screaming. Which meant that things weren't desperate enough to force their way past the large imposing man who had materialized from nowhere and was obviously guarding the door.

Finally, though, it was time to check on the patient, and one particularly brave doctor approached the door with a male nurse in tow, both of them eyeing Teal'c nervously.

"I need to check on the patient…" The doctor said, lifting his chin just a little, trying to appear a little braver than he actually felt.

Teal'c rapped on the door without looking back at it, warning O'Neill that someone was coming in and then moved to the side without saying a word, although it was obvious he was telling them to go ahead and go in. Feeling a little more secure in his authority, the doctor pushed the door open, and was met by the man who'd been in the room talking to the patient.

Jack didn't say anything; he simply walked past the doctor and nurse and headed for the room Shawn was in, with Teal'c falling into step beside him.

"Did you learn anything, O'Neill?"

"Yeah, but let's wait until we're someplace a bit more secure."

Teal'c nodded, and the two of them walked back to Shawn's room, but didn't find Shawn – or anyone else – in the room.

Jack looked at Teal'c.

"Did they come and tell you if they were transferring the guys?"

"I was told nothing. Perhaps they went to check on River Hayden's progress…"

"Huh…"

O'Neill turned and headed out of the door, and almost ran over Daniel, who was coming into the room.

"There you are."

"Here we are," Jack agreed. "Do you know where Sam and Shawn are?"

Daniel's expression was serious enough that Jack actually felt a stab of worry, certain that something had happened. And Daniel's next words confirmed just how good Jack was at reading his friend.

"There was a problem with Ian," Daniel told them. "Janet transferred him and River both to the SGC, and Sam took Jake with her when she and Shawn went with them. I told her I'd tell you when you were done."

"Is Ian all right?"

"Janet said he went into cardiac arrest, but they got him back right away, and he's stable again. She said he should be fine, but she wanted to run more tests on him, and didn't want doctors here getting in her way."

He didn't mention that Janet looked far more shaken by Ian's trouble than Ian had. When he'd seen Ian before they'd bundled him into an ambulance with River, the New Yorker had looked like he was just soundly sleeping, while Fraiser was pale.

"That's where we're going, then."

He stopped just long enough to make sure there were guards on all four of the men who had tried to kidnap River – both military and local police – and then headed for the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

"What the _hell_ is going on, Colonel?"

Daniel had driven the three of them to the SGC, where Teal'c and Jack had both stopped just long enough to collect Jack (the dog) and Jaffer from the kennels before heading into the mountain, where they were accosted by Hammond before any of them could get to the infirmary to check on Ian or River.

Hammond wasn't happy. As far as he knew there was a major leak somewhere, and someone was passing on information about the Stargate to Air Force cadets – and who knew how many? All he knew for sure was that O'Neill had spoken – at length – to one of those men, and he needed to find out what he'd learned.

"It's an organization called the Trust, sir," Jack said, following Hammond into the briefing room and moving to take a seat so Daniel and Teal'c could join them as well. Jaffer put his head in Jack's lap, eager for some attention after spending time away from him, and Jack felt the aching in his injured leg fade a little as he stroked the lab's black head.

"The Trust?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah. Apparently the slimebags from the NID banded together after the fall of their little group and formed a new one. This group is – _was_ – actively recruiting. And apparently Ian was the first name on their Christmas wishlist."

"Ian?" Hammond asked, frowning. "Why?"

"Because according to his school records, he has a serious problem with authority – which they took to mean that he hated the military and might be interested in something a little less organized – discipline-wise."

"Why would he be in the Air Force academy if he hated the military?" Daniel asked, curiously.

"Because of his father," Jack said with a shrug. "But, if he didn't want to be in the military, they had a perfect place for him, and they decided that if Ian's anything like Nate, then he'd be perfect for their little group – if they could convince him to join up."

"And…?"

"And apparently Morgan sent his lackeys to feel out Ian… to see how he might respond to a first overture."

"And?"

"According to Morgan, his men tried it while Ian was jogging – which as you all know is probably the very worst time anyone could ever approach Ian – and he pulled his gun on them and sent them on their way before they could ask him anything."

Hammond's frown deepened.

"Did _you_ know he was approached? Did he mention it to you?"

"No, sir. He didn't say anything." Jack held up his hand before the general could say anything. "Of course, I've been injured, and he might have been planning to say something later…"

Which didn't make Hammond any happier, really. Such a breach of security should have been reported immediately – and even Ian should have known it.

"So when Ian told them no… then what?" Daniel asked. "They went for River, hoping that he'd join up and bring Ian with him?"

"Exactly. Only things went bad, because Shawn and Ian both showed up at the Coffee House before they could finish talking, and Morgan panicked and grabbed River."

"Why?"

Jack shrugged.

"I didn't get that far before I was interrupted by the doctors…"

"I want more information from him, Colonel," Hammond said, scowling. "And I want to know what Ian Brooks knows, too – as soon as he wakes up."

"Yes, sir." He'd check on Shawn and Sam, first, and then see how River was. "I'll see-"

There was a polite knock on the door, and all heads turned towards it.

"Enter!"

An Airman entered the room, and looked over at O'Neill.

"Colonel O'Neill? You have a phone call, sir."

"Tell them I'll call them back."

"It's General Brooks, sir," the man told him apologetically. "He says it's important, sir."


	24. 24

"You'd better take it, Colonel," Hammond said. It wasn't like Nate would just call Jack at work on a weekend to see how the weather was in Colorado, after all. "Use my office."

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill headed into Hammond's office, and picked up the phone, hitting the blinking light that told him the line he needed.

"O'Neill."

"Jack, it's Nate."

"Hi, Nate. Why do I get the feeling you're not calling to ask how Sam and the baby are?"

"How are Sam and the baby?"

"They're fine."

"Good. Do you know where Ian is?"

Jack frowned, wondering if Nathan Brooks had some kind of internal radar that told him when his son was in trouble. The man had an uncanny knack for calling when Ian was in a bind.

"Yeah, Nate."

"I want you to put him someplace safe, Jack – someplace deep in that mountain of yours – until I get there."

"You're coming _here_?"

"I'm on the plane, now."

"What's going on, Nate?"

There was a hesitation, and just when Jack had decided Brooks wasn't going to answer him, Nathan spoke up.

"I can't talk to you on this line. It's not secure. Just do what I told you Jack. Put that boy of mine so deep that even his mother couldn't find him if she wanted to."

"But-"

"Goddamn it, Jack, just do it. And meet me at the Airport at 6:20 your time, because that's when my plane lands."

The phone went dead, and Jack knew it was to keep him from arguing any further. He frowned, and set the phone back in the cradle, and then walked out into the briefing room once more.

"What was that about, Jack?" Daniel asked, wondering at the odd look on his friend's face.

"Nate's on his way here."

"What?" Hammond asked. "Why?"

"I don't know for sure. He wouldn't tell me. But he's worried about Ian – he told me more or less to pretty much hide him, and that's saying something for Nate…"

Hammond frowned. He knew Nathan, too – although not the same way Jack did. Jack and Nate went back to their Special Forces days, while Hammond hadn't met the man until after he'd been promoted to General, and had transferred over to a Washington job. He knew that Brooks had a lot of political connections – although the man himself hated politics and politicians. He was always willing to use those connections if he needed to, though, and Hammond wondered if maybe he'd gotten wind of what was going on with Ian.

"Ian's not going anywhere right now – not according to Doctor Fraiser – so that shouldn't be a problem." There was no place more secure than the SGC, after all. At least he used to think so. Then he woke up that morning and things were suddenly all messed up.

"When's he going to be here?" Daniel asked.

"Around 6:30. He asked me to be at the airport – which means he's not on a military flight."

Which was just as odd, because the older Brooks didn't have a problem hopping a military flight whenever he needed to. Meaning he didn't really want the military to know where he was?

"Then we'll break off this particular discussion until he gets here – just in case he knows something we don't."

Hammond wasn't positive that he was right, of course, but he needed time to stop and talk to the President, in any case, and there was one SG team due in that afternoon as well.

That was fine with Jack. He wanted to check on Shawn, anyways, and then see how Ian and River were doing. Obviously, there wasn't a lot of need to keep River under guard in the SGC anymore, but they still wouldn't allow him to wander around – and Jack wanted to see how long it would be until Fraiser was planning on letting him out of bed.

"Go check on everyone, Colonel," Hammond said, standing up. "And let me know if there's anything I need to be aware of."

"Yes, sir."

Jack and Jaffer headed for the door, with Teal'c, Daniel and Jack (the dog) right behind them.

OOOOOOOO

Sam was in the infirmary – which was pretty much where Jack had expected to find her. She was sitting on the edge of Shawn's bed, and Jack smiled when he saw the look on his son's face. Shawn was not happy to be stuck in bed when as far as he was concerned, he was fine. The arm ached, but it wasn't debilitating, and in a sling like it was there wasn't even any pressure on it.

The scowl faded when Jaffer hopped up onto the bed beside him, though, and the black lab flopped down, his head resting lightly on Shawn's belly. Sam smiled at the difference in Shawn's expression, and then smiled a hello to Jack, who came up behind her and put his hand on the small of her back in greeting.

"How's it going?"

"Shawn's pouting."

"I am _not_."

Sam's smile grew, because even his voice sounded a little pouting.

"Fraiser won't let you up?"

"She wants to run some tests," Shawn replied.

"Well, she _outranks_ you, young man," Jack said, sitting down next to Sam with a relieved sigh as he took some weight off his injured leg. "So do what she says."

He sighed, but nodded – it wasn't like he had a lot of options, anyways.

"Don't worry, Shawn," Sam told him, loving how very much Shawn looked like Jack – especially when he looked disgruntled – which wasn't often. "Janet said she's not going to keep you here overnight, so you can come home with us for the night."

Shawn smiled. That would be a lot better than going back to his empty dorm room – since he knew Doctor Fraiser had every intention of keeping River that night and maybe longer – and answering questions from the other cadets about Hayden's absence.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Yeah. You can change _diapers_," Jack said, grinning.

Shawn's smile grew.

"I'd love to Jack, but my arm is a little _sore_… and I'm not sure I'd be able to do it…"

"Hey…"

"You wouldn't want me to drop a messy diaper, would you? Just because my poor arm can't handle the-"

"All right. All right."

Geez. No one ever wanted to help change diapers. Everyone liked holding the baby, but man, the minute he started stinking, they were so quick to hand him back to mom and dad…

"I'm going to go check on the others." He looked at Jaffer, who had already closed his eyes and was half asleep. "Yeah… you keep Jaffer occupied for me… he's so hyper, that he'd probably end up getting kicked out."

Sam and Shawn smiled, and Jack left them, and headed for the other side of the room where he'd seen Fraiser when he'd entered the infirmary.


	25. 25

Even though he'd been at the SGC for over an hour and hadn't received a new dosage of painkillers for almost an hour before that, River Hayden was still heavily medicated, and it showed. When Jack slipped behind the curtain that surrounded his bed, he found River propped up in his bed with one leg elevated and uncovered. The cadet had been watching as a doctor had been probing the leg with gentle fingers – although he could have been using a steak knife for all River cared just then – and looked up when Jack entered the area.

"Hiya, Jack."

O'Neill smiled; while _Ian_ called him Jack all the time, and _Shawn_, of course, did as well, River had never done it before, and that told Jack all he needed to know.

"Still medicated, I see?"

The doctor nodded, without looking up from what he was doing.

"It'll be a few hours before he's back to normal – whatever that it."

River grinned.

"I'm normal already. But Janet's not happy with me."

"No?" Jack went over and watched what the doctor was doing; trying to figure out what he was trying to find out. "Why not?"

"Beats me."

The doctor looked up.

"He asked her to marry him."

"That's not so bad."

"And started describing the honeymoon. In full _detail_."

Ah, yeah.

"Which is why she's not here?"

"And why _I_ am."

Meaning he was male, and River wouldn't be quite so forthcoming with a male doctor.

"How's his leg?"

"It's not too bad. A bit of tissue damage and some bruising – although I don't feel any swelling so I'm not sure where the bruising is coming from. He's a lot healthier than he should be considering what happened to him."

"Good."

"Doctor Fraiser will keep him overnight – at _least_ – and see how it looks tomorrow before she decides if she'll allow him back to school on Monday."

Not to mention they needed to have a long talk with the young man before he went anywhere – and they had to wait until he had burned off all the narcotics in his system to do that.

"Does he need anything?"

"You could bring me some pancakes," River told him.

"He's not allowed to eat," the doctor said before Jack could say anything. "Eating while so doped up might make him sick, so we're going to wait to feed him."

"Don't listen to him Jack, he's anti-pancake."

"Anti-pancake, huh?"

"Yeah."

The doctor rolled his eyes, clearly amused, and Jack shook his head.

"I'm going to go check on Ian."

"Tell him to bring me some pancakes."

"I'll do that."

Of course, since the New Yorker was asleep – _probably_ – he wouldn't hear him anyway.

Jack left River and went over to Janet, who was standing at the far end of the room, next to Ian's bed. The curtains were open and Ian was sprawled in the bed, dressed sweats and a t-shirt and completely still.

"Hey, doc. How's it going?"

Janet scowled, looking at the monitor that was registering Ian's heartbeat. She'd taken quite a scare when he'd flat-lined, and there was no way she was going to take any chances on anything when it came to Ian, now. She didn't have any IV s hooked up to him – he didn't need any fluids or painkillers – but she had every kind of monitor at her disposal watching him, and she was watching the monitors carefully as well as making periodical and frequent physical checks on his systems as well. Every time she checked his heartbeat and blood pressure, he was within normal areas, but she still didn't have any idea why he was asleep. And absolutely no intention of trying to wake him again.

"He's driving me crazy."

Jack looked at the cadet sleeping in the bed.

"Doesn't he need to be awake to do that?"

"You'd think he did," Janet answered, seeing where Jack would find some humor in the situation. "But he's doing it all the same."

"What's wrong?"

She shrugged.

"Nothing. I can't find a _thing_ wrong with him, and absolutely no reason for him to be asleep – but…"

She gestured to Ian, as if that said everything.

"I have half a mind to call his parents and see if there's some hidden medical problem I don't know about – like low blood sugar or thyroid problems."

"Would those be doing this?"

She shrugged.

"Probably not, but I'm pretty much grasping at straws."

"Is he in any danger?"

"No. He's just asleep. As long as he wakes up, eventually… he'll be fine."

"Well, Nate's on his way here, so you might get that chance a lot sooner than you think."

"Oh?"

Jack nodded, and looked at his watch.

"He'll be here in about an hour, but I don't think he'll be coming down here any time soon."

"Why is he coming? Did someone call him about Ian?"

Jack shrugged.

"I don't think so – but who knows? I just wanted to make sure I didn't have to tell him that Ian's in danger… he's not, right?"

"No. He's not. As far as I can tell."

And since Jack knew that Janet was as good as they come, it was good enough for him.

"Great. I'll be back to check on him when I can…"

She nodded, and went back to watching Ian sleep, her expression still marred by a scowl and Jack went back to Sam and Shawn.

OOOOOO

"How are they?" Sam asked when Jack reappeared.

Jack sat down, running his hand along Jaffer's silky black hide. The lab didn't even open his eyes, proving to Jack that he was sound asleep. Big shock there.

"Ian's asleep and River asked Janet to marry him."


	26. 26

Jack stayed in the infirmary for about half an hour before he finally had to leave for the airport to go get Nathan. Sam asked him if he wanted company, but he decided that he probably should just talk to Nate one on one first and see what he knew – then he'd decide whether or not to bring the retired general back to the SGC or not. Of course, since Nate would undoubtedly want to see Ian, Jack had another job for Sam. One far more difficult than dealing with Nathan Brooks. And that was to deal with Ian Brooks.

"Try to get him awake, Sam," Jack said. "He might wake up for you where he'll ignore everyone else."

They were both reminded of how Ian had responded to Sam when he'd been so tired the last time – the day they returned with Jacob.

"I'll give it a shot."

Jack nodded, and brushed a kiss against her cheek as he stood up.

"I'll be back in a bit."

"We'll be here."

Since Janet wasn't letting anyone go just then, it was a guarantee that they would. Shawn, River and Ian would, anyway.

He smiled, and headed for the door. Jaffer sat up as he was leaving, realized he was going to be left behind, and launched himself off the bed, tearing off after Jack before he could get out of sight.

Sam smiled, looking at Shawn, who grinned. Some things were more important than sleep, and Jaffer had been left behind enough already that day.

"Do you need anything before I go see Ian?" She asked him.

"No, I'm okay. Do you want me to come with you?"

"And let Janet catch you out of bed without permission?" Sam asked, her eyes widening in feigned shock. "I thought you were a genius…"

OOOOOOOO

It took Jack a lot longer to find the right terminal than it should have. Of course, all he had to go on was the arrival time of the plane, since Nate hadn't bothered to tell him what carrier he was flying on or what gate he was supposed to arrive at. With Jaffer beside him – on a leash because they were in a very crowded place and the airport people didn't mind him being there as long as he was under control (which translated into leashed) – Jack roamed through the various terminals, looking at arrival and departure screens, trying to find a flight that originated in New York and was arriving at 6:20. And didn't find anything. Anywhere.

Annoyed and more than a little frustrated, he looked at the closest clock. It was already 6:20, and he didn't have a clue where to meet Nate – and of course, he didn't have his cell number so he couldn't call him. Provided he was off the plane and had the phone on in the first place.

"_Now arriving, Flight 599 from Washington, DC, at Gate 12."_

Jack saw the people swarming towards that gate, and looked up at the arrival screen once more. It was the only flight in this entire terminal that was arriving any where near the right time, so he waited and watched, thinking that maybe Nate had flown in from DC and hadn't bothered to mention that, either.

Leaning against the wall out of the way, he was rewarded only a few minutes later. Nathan was the first person off the plane and out into the main terminal. The big man was imposing, even in jeans and a polo shirt, and Jack noticed that most people gave him a wide berth when they could, careful to avoid bumping him. Nate saw him as soon as he saw Nate, and the big man headed his direction, so Jack waited where he was instead of trying to wade through the sea of humanity that were hugging and kissing and greeting the newly arrived relatives, spouses and significant others.

"Jack."

He put his hand out and Jack shook it.

"Hey, Nate."

"I was hoping you'd be able to find me," Brooks said as they headed away from the crowd. "It occurred to me when we landed that I hadn't told you what flight I was on or anything."

"You know me," Jack said, shrugging. "I can find anyone – anytime."

"Uh huh. Where's Ian?"

"Back at the base."

"Good."

"What's this _about_, Nate?" Jack asked. "There's a-"

"I don't want to talk about it here, Jack. We need to go someplace secure."

"Nate…"

Brooks looked at him, knowing that if the tables were turned, he wouldn't be all that happy about all the cloak and dagger crap, either.

"I know about your Stargate, Jack."

Jack looked around, but there wasn't anyone anywhere near them.

"Come on. We need to get back to the base."

Oh yeah. This was definitely a reason to bring him back to talk to Hammond.

OOOOOOOOOO

"How are they doing, Janet?"

Fraiser looked over at Sam when she came up behind her, and gave a frustrated sigh.

"They're both driving me nuts."

"Oh?"

"Ian's still asleep, and River's propositioned every female in the room but you – and I think that's just because you haven't been anywhere near him."

Sam smiled.

"Is he okay?"

"Which one?"

"Both."

"River's fine – and he's finally starting to come down off his high. A little. Ian's fine, too, as near as I can tell… he's just asleep."

"Jack asked me to try and wake him up before Nathan gets here…"

Janet shook her head.

"Good luck."

"I can't hurt him, can I?"

"I don't think so."

As long as she didn't try waking him with any kind of injections. Janet was fairly certain that the adrenaline shot she gave Ian was the reason he'd flatlined. The timing had just been too perfect. He'd actually spoken to her before that, so she knew he could be woken – at least a little – and had been considering calling Cassie and having her come down and give waking him up a try. Sam was just as good, though, she decided. Ian reacted better to Sam and Janet knew he'd never tell Sam to go away like he had her.

"Tell him if he doesn't wake up and tell me what's wrong with him, I'm going to kill him."

Sam smiled.

"I'll do that."


	27. 27

He'd rolled back over onto his belly sometime during his sleep, but Janet hadn't even bothered trying to roll him back. It was a natural position, and if that was more comfortable for him, then all the better as far as she was concerned. She'd simply made sure that the wires leading to the monitors weren't tangled, and wouldn't tangle if he managed to roll a little more, and had then had covered him warmly and left him alone.

She could hover from a distance, after all.

Sam pushed the curtain aside and walked into the small area surrounding Ian's bed and smiled softly. Ian was a good looking guy all the time, but he always looked so serious when he was awake – at least when he thought people were watching. When he was asleep, though, he looked no older than his twenty years, and with his head half under the pillow it gave him an almost vulnerable look that made her wonder what he'd looked like and been like when he was a child. All she knew for sure was that he'd liked Legos, and hadn't been a Boy Scout.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, she ran her hand along his back and then to his shoulder, where she gave him a gentle shake.

"Ian?" She whispered, just loud enough that he'd be able to hear her. "Wake up for a minute, will you?"

She felt a slight tensing under her hand, but he didn't respond otherwise, even though she waited a full minute.

"Ian? It's Sam. Wake up, please?"

"I can't get it to work right now, Sam…"

His voice was muffled – mainly because his face was buried in the mattress – but she could understand what he said, more or less.

"What?"

"The drive… I can't do it right now… 'sorry…"

She smiled, realizing that he wasn't quite awake and thought she was trying to get him to help her with the new drive they'd been working on.

"Ian, you need to wake up… we're worried about you…"

"I'm fine."

Aside from the fact that he still hadn't opened his eyes, or moved a muscle, Sam might have believed him.

"Why are you so tired?" She asked, running her hand through his hair in a purely maternal gesture that she couldn't have stopped if she'd tried. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Just tired…"

"We're going to need you awake…"

He moved his head slightly, and opened one eye. Or maybe both, although the other one was hidden from her just then.

"Why?"

"Your dad's on the way… He's going to be worried if you're sleeping in the middle of the day for no reason…"

"I'm _tired_, Sam…"

The eye closed again.

"Ian… please?"

He sighed, and there was a moment that she thought he wasn't going to respond. But then the eye opened again, and while he still had a glazed look about him, he did seem maybe a little more awake.

"Bring me Jake…"

She frowned.

"What?"

"Jake… bring him here, Sam… I won't hurt him…"

She _knew_ he wouldn't hurt him. She just couldn't figure out why he'd _want_ him – and what good her infant son could do to wake him up when nothing else seemed to be able to. But if that was what he wanted… well…

"I'll be right back."

She wanted to check on Jake anyways. He'd been in one of the small isolation rooms – one that was used as a makeshift nursery when he was sleeping and she needed him out of the way. There was a two-way monitoring system in the room and there was always someone listening for him to wake up or fuss, and it kept her from worrying about him while she was working.

"Well?"

Janet accosted Sam before she'd even gone two steps.

"He's sleepy."

Fraiser scowled.

"I know that, Sam. But why?"

"He didn't say, Janet. He just asked me to bring him Jake when I told him I needed him awake."

"Jake? Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe because he's always petrified when he holds him, and that'll wake him up…" she shrugged. Ian mystified her sometimes – and she was pretty sure she was one of the few people who understood him at all.

Janet didn't look all that certain about that, but she shrugged, too, and Sam smiled at the odd look on her friend's face as she left the room and went to get Jake.

OOOOOOO

At the same time Jack O'Neill was searching aimlessly through the airport for Nathan Brooks, Sam O'Neill was gathering up her son – who had been wide awake and gnawing on his hand when she entered the room.

"Hey, little guy," Sam said, reaching into the crib that Teal'c and Daniel had bought and assembled just for the room, "How's my baby doing?"

Jake smiled around his hand, a toothless grin that Sam simply couldn't get enough of, and she cuddled him close.

"Let's go see Ian, huh? He wants to have a long talk with you about reactors and super drives and modified variables that will even make a washing machine fly, but don't listen to the bad words he uses, okay?"

Jake gurgled around his hand, plainly telling his momma just what he thought about washing machines flying, and Sam was grinning when she brought him out into the infirmary and carried him over to Ian's bed.

The cadet was sleeping again, but when Sam sat down the shift of the mattress woke him – somewhat – and he opened that eye once more. Then with a visible effort, he rolled onto his side, and with the arm that wasn't pinned under his body, he gestured silently for Sam to put Jacob in the space he'd just made. Which she did – with only a moment's hesitation.

Nicely warmed from Ian's body heat, the spot was far warmer than his own crib had been, and Jake didn't mind the transfer at all. Especially when Ian brought his arm around and cuddled the infant right up against his side. Jake gurgled again, and as Sam watched, Ian ran his hand along the baby's belly, idly, and in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.

What she couldn't see was what was happening between the two of them. Infants develop more in their first year than a person will grow at any other time in their life, and nature knows this. To cope with that growth spurt, the babies are given incredible amounts of energy. Thanks to Ian's help the day he was born, Jake was far more developed than even a baby his age who hadn't been born a preemie would normally be and the infant had energy to spare. Energy that Ian was going to borrow. Not a _lot_, of course. He'd never risk Jake's health – not for anyone, even Sam – but he could use some of it without harming the baby, and while the two of them cuddled, that's exactly what he did.

Taking advantage of the bond already formed between them, Ian asked Jake for the energy – life energy can't be stolen when the two were bonded like Ian and Jake were, it could only be offered – and the infant, without even understanding what was happening between them, willingly gave his godfather what he was asking for. The wave of energy that trickled from one to the other wasn't a lot, but it was pure like only an infant could produce, and it was so potent that Ian cut off the link far sooner than he might have if Jake was a lot older.

Jake gurgled again, none the worse for having some energy borrowed – and getting free cuddles out of it – and Sam smiled, always glad to see her son so cheerful. Ian's body, meanwhile, was putting that borrowed energy to work, using it to fill the places in him that were so drained. He wasn't ready to wake up completely just yet, but with a little more rest – and a little quiet – he'd be there a lot sooner than he would have been if he'd been left alone.

"Thanks, Sam…"

She didn't know what he was thanking her for, but she smiled, anyway.

"Want me to take him?"

He shook his head. He didn't _need_ to hold Jake, now, but it was kind of nice, and comforting. And if he'd been more awake, he would have been terrified at having the baby so close to him.

"I'll keep him a while…"


	28. 28

Getting Nathan onto the base was easier than usual – even for a retired general. Jack had called Hammond on the way there from the airport, and Hammond had made calls to every checkpoint from the main gate to the lower levels of the SGC. All Nate had to do was show ID while Jack signed him in at the checkpoints, and they were sent on their way with respectful salutes.

"I'm not sure exactly where Ian is…" Jack said, hedging, as they waited for the final elevator.

"Wherever he is, keep him there," Nate told him. "I want to talk with you and George, and I don't want Ian to know what we're discussing."

"Really?"

"You'll understand when we talk."

Jack nodded, and the elevator doors swooshed open, saving him from making a reply.

Hammond was waiting for them when the doors opened again, and Jack headed for a phone as the two generals greeted each other. He dialed the infirmary, and one of the medics answered. A moment later Fraiser was on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Is Ian awake?"

Janet looked over towards the curtained area where she could just see Sam sitting by the bed watching as Jacob and Ian dozed together.

"Not exactly, sir. But he's been responding. I'm pretty sure we could get him awake if we tried, now."

"Let him sleep for now," Jack told her. "But I would like Sam to come listen in on what's happening. Could you pass that message on?"

"Of course."

Jack hung up and called Teal'c and Daniel both to the briefing room as well. The more people that were there, the fewer times he'd have to explain things – and he rarely explained briefings all that well after the fact. Then he hung up and headed back out into the room, arriving just as Hammond was offering Nate a cup of coffee.

"I could use a bite to eat, too, George," Brooks said. "The food on the plane was terrible and I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"We're waiting for the rest of SG-1," Hammond told him. "Let's go get something while we wait, and you can eat while you tell us what's going on."

"Good enough."

Jack sat down at the table; he'd wait for his team, and he knew that Hammond wasn't going to take too long.

OOOOOOOOO

"Colonel O'Neill wants you in the briefing room, Sam."

Sam looked up from watching Jake and Ian sleeping.

"They're back already?"

"I guess so. He said to leave Ian where he was for now, though."

"Really?"

That was odd. Sam had expected Nate to come charging into the infirmary looking for his son immediately upon arrival.

Janet nodded.

"Go ahead, I'll stay and make sure Jake doesn't roll off the bed."

As comfortably cuddled up against Ian's side as he was, it didn't look like it'd be a problem, but Sam was a protective mother, and Janet was a protective doctor, so it worked out well that way.

Sam nodded and stood up, leaving the infirmary with a wave to Shawn, who was eating dinner and had a mouthful of food and couldn't ask her where she was going. Janet checked Ian's monitors, made sure nothing was out of normal ranges, and then took the seat Sam had vacated.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Yesterday, Ian called me," Nate began less than half an hour later. "Asking me if I knew a man named John Smith."

This got Jack's attention immediately, since he knew one of the men at the hospital was named John Smith. Given, it was a common name, but not so common as some might think, and Jack had to assume that the two were the same man.

"Do you?" Jack asked.

Nathan shook his head.

"When I asked him why he wanted to know, he told me that some guys had approached him, telling him that they were friends of mine."

"We know about that," Hammond said.

"How'd _you_ find out?" Nate asked. "Ian?"

"No. We'll explain that in a minute." Hammond didn't know what these men had to do with Nate knowing about the Stargate, but he wanted to find out.

"So I did some checking on my own, to see who might be prowling around Ian – given the events around Thanksgiving last year, you can understand why I'd want to know, I'm sure."

"What did you come up with?" Jack asked.

"Smith works for a guy named Morgan. Morgan works for an admiral named Leaf, and Leaf works for none other than Vice President Robert Kinsey."

"Kinsey?"

Jack scowled.

"Kinsey doesn't have anything to do with it, Jack. He was the first person I went to see, and I came away with Leaf's name, and the assurance that Kinsey doesn't want anything to do with Ian."

"He's a lying snake," Jack said. "Are you sure that you can believe what-"

"This time I can," Nathan said, confidently. "There's no way he was lying. Besides, I verified it."

"How?" Hammond asked.

"I paid Admiral Leaf a visit." Nate leaned back, his gaze going over the entire group in the briefing room. "He wasn't very talkative right away, but I convinced him."

"What did he tell you?" Sam asked.

"Leaf and Kinsey are the frontrunners of a group called the Trust," Nate said. "An offshoot of the NID – which he told me all about – they've been actively trying to steal alien technology from _your_ allies by going through their own Stargate at certain times when its use can be masked from your SGC monitors."

"They have a Stargate?" Sam asked.

"How do you know about the Stargate?" Daniel asked, just as shocked.

"Leaf told me all about it."

"And presumably Kinsey would have told him," Jack said.

"Yeah."

"Where did they get a Stargate?" Hammond asked.

"They have the one from Antarctica."

"That's in Area 51." Sam said.

"Something is," Nate said, shrugging, "But I'll bet it's not a Stargate. Maybe it's a decoy. I don't know. All I know is they stole the Stargate from Area 51, and have been running covert operations of their own through it. They've lost several men, though, and have been trying to actively recruit new blood."

"Which is where Ian comes in…" Sam guessed.

Nate nodded, and now his eyes were cold and angry.

"They were going to promise him a leadership role on one of their teams, playing on the fact that he wouldn't have to wait for promotions from the military if he joined up with them."

"But he wouldn't even talk to them," Sam said.

"Of course not. Ian's not a big fan of the military, I know, but he's not the kind of kid that would ever allow himself to be drawn into a cesspool of rodents like those people." He scowled. "I'm not all that pleased to find out that he's already involved in covert operations here, for that matter – but at least the people he's working with are people I know."

Which said a lot, and they all knew it.

"Leaf told you all about the Stargate program?" Hammond asked.

"Yes."

"That's classified information, Nathan…"

Brooks nodded, but didn't look at all guilty about knowing.

"I didn't give him a lot of choice, George."


	29. 29

Jack looked over at Hammond, who frowned, but then nodded, giving him permission.

"This morning your Admiral Leaf's guys lured River Hayden out of the Air Force academy – apparently sending him a phone message or talking to him on the phone telling him that he was a friend of his father's. River went to meet him at a coffee shop downtown, and they told him about the Stargate, the SGC, and the Trust…"

"Figured if they couldn't have Ian they'd have the next best thing?"

Jack shook his head.

"What they were hoping to do – according to Morgan – was recruit River, get him in deep and have _him_ recruit Ian for them. What they didn't count on was that Shawn was suspicious of the whole thing, and enlisted Ian's help to go looking for River and this guy he was supposed to meet."

"Good for him. What happened?"

"They found them and interrupted things. I got more information from Morgan – that's _Phillip_ Morgan, by the way – than I've managed to get from the boys, because they're still not sure exactly what was going on, but Morgan told me that he hadn't quite reached the pitch part of his proposal when one of his men spotted Ian coming through the door and panicked. He busted into the back room telling them they had to get out of there, and instead of leaving River where he was, they grabbed him and forced him to go with them. Even fired a shot to scare off Shawn and Ian."

"Those _bastards_," Nate growled. "Were they hurt?"

"Shawn took a hit to the upper arm, but it's a clean wound – he's already up and about more or less. Ian wasn't hit."

"And then what happened?"

Nate knew if Shawn's injury was serious, Jack wouldn't have brushed it off so easily, and aside from the flare of anger in his brown eyes, O'Neill didn't look upset.

"Ian got Shawn into his car and they took off after the Trust guys, ran a car chase through the middle of town until River apparently decided he'd had enough and grabbed the wheel forcing them to crash."

"River and another man were tossed through the front window," Sam said, before Nathan could ask. "River's okay – just bruises and some scratches – but the other guy was in surgery when we left the hospital, and they weren't sure if he was going to live."

"And the rest of them?"

"They're all still at the hospital. They wouldn't speak to the police until they had lawyers present – and were probably waiting to hear from their Superior – although I hadn't gotten that far with Morgan when I was interrupted."

"They're going to be waiting a long time if they're waiting to hear from _Leaf_," Nathan said. "And Kinsey had nothing to do with this. As far as his orders to Leaf went, they were supposed to stay the hell away from Ian _and_ from your boy, Jack."

Jack nodded, taking Nate's word for it, although he wondered now just how much Leaf had said to Nate if he'd managed to get even that little tidbit of information from him – and what Nathan had done to get him to say it. He really didn't want to know, though, and didn't care at all. They had other problems.

"You do realize that you can't say anything about the Stargate, right? Not even to Maggie?"

Nathan scowled. He didn't need to be reminded what he could and couldn't tell anyone – and he'd fucking tell Maggie whatever the hell he wanted to, because she'd never tell anyone.

"No one would believe me, anyways. How long has Ian been mixed up with this?"

"Some time after Thanksgiving," Jack said. "He found out about it accidentally, and while he was recovering, we let him in on a few more things, to see if he was interested in it."

"I don't like him being in so much danger, Jack…"

"He's not, Nate. Not really. Most of the time he helps Sam with research on the technology we find… We know he's not completely trained yet, and we'd never put him in a situation he couldn't handle. Not on purpose, anyways."

Which didn't include the whole _captured_ _by the Goa'uld and escaping only to deliver a baby on a faraway planet with absolutely no one there to help him_ thing. Ian had handled that just fine. And had returned alive and mostly well – along with Sam and Jake. Really, as far as Jack was concerned, Ian had already proven himself to be exactly what the SGC needed in their future officers – minus the language and people skills – and he could understand completely why the Trust were drooling over him. Although he didn't _like_ it.

"He's the only son I have, Jack…"

"He is a fine young man," Teal'c said, speaking for the first time. "And a capable warrior. You should be proud of him, Nathan Brooks."

Nate looked over at Teal'c, noticing for the first time the golden seal on his forehead.

"I _am_ proud of him," Nate said. "You're not human, are you?"

"I am not."

"You're one of those… Jaffies… Leaf mentioned."

"_Jaffa_," Daniel corrected.

Brooks looked at Daniel, scowling at the correction.

"Are _you_ human?"

Daniel nodded.

"We all are… just not… Teal'c."

"Huh…"

"What else did Leaf tell you, Nathan?" Hammond asked.

"A bunch of propaganda bullshit about how the SGC was originally brought into being in order to find the ultimate weapons and technology to defend this country from her allies, only to have it fall into the hands of those too weak to take what they weren't able to get fair and square from their new allies… shit like that…" He gave Sam an apologetic look for the use of the bad language, but looked at Hammond again. "I made sure to remind him that those weak hands belonged to someone I knew very well – and he didn't mention that again."

Hammond smiled, slightly, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Thanks."

Nate shrugged.

"Don't mention it."

"I don't suppose you asked this talkative admiral for other names?" Jack asked. "Names of other guys who might be in the Trust?"

"Of course I did, Jack. Do I look stupid?"

"You did?" Hammond asked. "I want those names, Nathan."

Brooks shook his head.

"I didn't bring them with me."

Actually, he had them memorized and had absolutely no intention of sharing that information with anyone. Unlike Ian, Nathan lied very well and wasn't afraid to do just that. Nathan Brooks didn't like the fact that the bastards in the Trust had gone after his son – even if it was a back handed compliment that they'd wanted him so badly – and he was going to make sure that they all knew just how deadly a game they'd joined up in.

He knew where to start, too. With the four in the hospital.

"I'd like to see Ian, now…"

First things first.


	30. 30

They broke up the briefing then, because now that he had all the information he needed, Nate was determined to check on Ian – especially once he'd heard about his son being shot at. Hammond, too, had heard enough – at least for the moment. He had enough to tell the President, anyways, and that was his next move, knowing that President Hayes would be waiting for his call. He wasn't sure what Hayes would do when he heard about this whole mess originating with Kinsey, but that wasn't Hammond's call, so he didn't have to worry about that. He'd just present the facts as he'd been given them – along with passing on the information that two more people were in on the secret of the SGC – luckily they were two that were already more or less in the Military loop, so they could be counted on to hold onto the information.

Jack and Sam walked with Nathan down towards the infirmary, while Daniel excused himself to go home. His only real reason for being there had been concern for the boys, and since they were all okay, he was going to go finish the weekend he'd planned out with Sally. Teal'c excused himself as well, but only because he didn't have any real need to accompany the small group to the infirmary. He knew that if something happened and the health of the three cadets changed he would hear about it, even though there wouldn't be anything he'd be able to do to help.

"Shawn's all right, huh?" Nate asked as they headed for the elevator, Jaffer leading them as if he knew where they were going.

Jack nodded.

"Fraiser's going to keep River here overnight, so even though Shawn's healthy enough to go back to the academy, I'm not going to send him back until River's ready to go too."

"I don't blame you," Nathan agreed. "You're keeping him here?"

"I thought about taking him home, but I think he'll be just as well off here, so I'll let him decide. Or Fraiser – in case she decides she wants to keep an eye on him overnight."

Jack was always willing to listen to Janet when it came to the health of those around him. Just not so much when it came to his own.

"And Ian?"

"He was sleeping when I saw him last," Jack said, once more hedging.

"He's had a long week," Sam said, smiling at Nate. It wasn't a lie, after all, and it might make him worry less when he saw Ian sleeping so soundly. "I think he was glad to take advantage of the lull to get a chance to catch some extra sleep."

Nate nodded, seeing the reasoning behind that. He'd learned a long time ago that it was smart to get sleep when you could – especially in his line of work – and was proud that Ian hadn't needed anywhere near as long to learn that lesson.

They entered the infirmary a few minutes later, and found River's curtain wide open and the cadet sitting up in his bed, working his way through a large dinner, while Shawn sat on the edge of his bed, his arm still in its sling. Both looked up when Jack, Sam and Nate walked in, and Nate walked over to stand by the bed, looking down at both of them.

"How are you guys?" He asked.

It really was hard to believe sometimes that Nate was Ian's dad. Ian was so slight and dark, while Nathan was large and blonde, Shawn decided he looked more like River, who was just as blonde and not as large, but still bigger than Ian.

"_I'm_ fine, General Brooks," Shawn said, holding his arm up to show that he really didn't even need the sling but was simply wearing it because Doctor Fraiser had told him he had to. "River's the one who tried to take up flying – without the plane."

Nate smiled at that, and the smile grew just a little broader when he saw River blushing. Another difference between father and son; Nate was far easier to talk to, even when you didn't know him all that well. He was just as imposing, just not as aloof. Ian, of course, would rather chew his arm off than make small talk.

"I couldn't see any reason to let the bastards take me wherever they were going," River said, shrugging. "Better to go through the windshield than end up in some warehouse or something."

"And from what I hear, you took them down with you," Nate said, nodding approvingly. He liked that attitude, and had decided the first time he'd met him that River Hayden was a good prospect for the Air Force. He'd make a good officer some day, as far as Nate was concerned, and the retired general was one of the best when it came to spotting the potential in a raw recruit. "Good job."

River's blush deepened, and he covered it by taking a long drink of his water. He'd normally take the compliments far better, but he was nursing something of a hangover from the medication he'd been on, and Shawn had been telling him of some of the things he'd said while he'd been doped up. And he had a feeling his roommate was leaving some other things out, judging from the amused smiles that pretty much every doctor and nurse in the room was throwing his direction.

"Thank you, Sir."

Nate nodded, and turned to Jack.

"Where's Ian?"

"Over here," Sam said, leading him over towards the curtained area at the end of the room. Not only would she leave Jack free to talk to Shawn and make sure he was alright – again – but she could check on Jake.

Nate moved the curtain out of the way, and Sam saw that neither Ian or Jacob had moved a bit in the hour or so that she'd been gone to the briefing. If anything, Jacob had somehow managed to cuddle even closer to Ian's side, with his back against Ian's belly, and Ian's right arm cradling him protectively even while they slept.

Sam looked over at Nate, wondering what he'd think at seeing Ian in such a deep sleep so early in the evening, but the elder Brooks didn't look concerned at all. Instead, he had a slight smile on his face, and a warmth in his expression that Sam had never seen before – and wondered how long it had been since Ian had. His blue eyes were focused on the sleeping pair, and even when Janet stood up at their entrance, Nate continued to watch his son sleep.

"I haven't seen him look so relaxed in a long time," Nate said, softly, turning his gaze to Fraiser and nodding a hello to her.

"Wait until he wakes up and sees who he's holding," Sam said, smiling. "We kind of put Jake with him just to help him get to sleep. Normally he'd be holding him at arm's length and even then he'd still be too close."

Nate smiled, and reached down, carefully shaking his son's shoulder. He was glad to see Ian was resting, but he wanted a chance to make sure he was okay, and to talk to him.

"Ian?" His voice was soft, but loud enough that it was just above a whisper. "Wake up, son."

Sam and Janet watched as Ian moved his head slightly, turning towards the sound of Nate's voice, his arm tightening just a fraction around Jacob to make sure he wasn't falling. His eyes opened, and although he looked a little groggy, Sam could already tell he was focusing better than he had been.

"Dad?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you."

Ian yawned, and looked around a little more, and realized Sam and Janet were both with him as well. Looking down to make sure he was wearing clothes – you never knew with Janet, after all, since it was her favorite way of making sure someone who was supposed to stay in bed actually _stayed_ in bed – he saw that Jake was cuddled up beside him and felt a stab of chagrin, mixed with a little concern that he'd somehow managed to smoosh the baby.

Then he saw how oddly everyone was looking at him, and he scowled. Great, they'd all caught him cuddling with the baby. That was fucking wonderful.

"He must have crawled into bed with me," Ian said, defensively, knowing even as he said it just how lame it sounded.


	31. 31

Nathan snorted, and then reached down and picked Jake up. The baby had woken when Ian spoke up, and found himself being picked up by someone he didn't really recognize. Of course, there were lots of people he didn't recognize, and the hands that were holding him were steady and strong, making him feel secure enough that he didn't have any good reason to cry. He stared at Nate, who grinned down at him.

"He's gotten really big, Sam."

Sam preened, proud of the fact that Jake had, indeed, gained a fair amount of weight since being born so tiny.

"He's not a shy eater," she confirmed, smiling. She looked down at Ian, who was sitting up now, and tossing the blankets aside. He was done sleeping.

Nate looked over at Ian as well, noting that he looked tired – since he just woke up, though, it was only natural he supposed.

"You're okay?" He asked his son.

Ian nodded.

"What are you doing here?"

Nate scowled.

"I came to check on you."

"Is mom here, too?"

"No, she's in Turkey."

"Oh."

Nate handed Jacob over to Sam, and gave Ian one more quick once over – just to make sure there weren't any bandages or anything.

"We need to talk."

Which told Ian that maybe he knew something about the Smith guy… he couldn't think of any other reason his dad would have come all this way – especially since there was no way he could have heard about the car chase and came just for that – since he probably couldn't have made it in the amount of time since it'd happened. You never knew with his dad, though.

"Okay."

Ian got out of bed, feeling a bit weak and tired, but not at all as disabled as he'd been before. The energy he'd borrowed from Jake had done wonders restoring his equilibrium, and a quick glance at the baby proved that Jake wasn't suffering from the loss.

"Hey…"

Janet started to protest that he was getting up, and both Ian and Nate looked over at her. That was a time when you could tell that they were father and son, Sam decided. They both wore similar looks of impatience, and identical scowls.

"I'll bring him back to you, Doctor Fraiser," Nathan said. "But I need to talk to him alone for a minute."

"I'll be right back," Ian promised.

"You'd better be," Janet said, giving them a slight frown of her own. She had a few questions for Ian – and _Nathan_, as well, if Ian didn't give her any answers.

The two turned and headed for the door to the infirmary, but were stopped 's bed talking to him, who was standing at River's bed talking to him and Shawn.

"Where ya going?" Jack asked.

"We'll be right back," Nate said.

Jack nodded, and smiled at Sam who had come up behind Ian and his father, and reached for Jake, who was more than willing to be passed over to his father.

"What's going on?" Shawn asked. He didn't have any more of an idea why Nate was here than River did, and both cadets were watching the retreating Brooks with curiosity.

"Oh, you'll never believe it," Jack said, shaking his head.

"But you're going to try me, right?" Shawn asked, hoping he wasn't going to be kept in the dark. He hated not knowing things.

"I'll tell you later." Jack turned to River. "How do you feel? We need to have a long chat, and it's important that you're coherent for it."

"I'm fine, Colonel."

Jack looked at Janet, who had followed Sam over to the bed, and the doctor nodded her head.

"He's burned off the medications, Colonel. You can have a normal conversation with him."

Well, as normal as River _ever_ was, anyways, Janet thought privately.

"Good. I'll go tell Hammond."

He handed Jake back to Sam, since it probably wouldn't do to report in with the baby in his arms – as much as he'd have liked to hold him for a while – and he and Jaffer headed for the door as well.

OOOOOO

Nate led Ian into the first empty room they found once they'd cleared the infirmary door, and closed and locked it behind them. It was a small storage room, with shelves of medical equipment stacked and labeled neatly all the way to the ceiling. Ian leaned against one of the shelving units, and waited.

Nate didn't make him wait long.

"I found your Smith guy, son."

So Ian had been right.

"Who is he?"

"Just a lackey. But he works for another guy, who works for an admiral, and this admiral is running a group that is a lot like the SGC – only not sanctioned by the military or the government. At least, not by those in rightful positions of power."

Ian's gaze grew guarded, and he wondered what his dad really knew about the SGC. He'd never used that phrase with Nate, and he knew no one else would have accidentally dropped it into a conversation. And Nathan understood the look immediately. Ian was very easy to read, after all.

"The admiral I tracked down knew all about this operation, son. And he told me everything. But I'm not going to ask you about it." Mainly because he was sure his son wouldn't tell him anything.

"Then, what-"

"These guys were after you, Ian."

"I knew that, dad. What did they want?"

Obviously if they'd wanted to hurt him, they would have done it on the field while he'd been jogging. Even though he'd gotten the drop on them, they'd had all the time in the world to pull weapons on him while they'd been walking towards him.

"They wanted to recruit you into their organization. The Trust, they called it."

"Yeah?"

Nate nodded, and scowled.

"They're bad men, Ian, and I don't want you anywhere near them."

"I'm not afraid of them."

"Of course you're not – and you _shouldn't_ be. You're better than all of them put together and don't you ever forget it. What I mean is that I don't want you having anything to do with them – or any group that you don't know. I know you can't talk about what you're doing here until you know what I know and what I _don't_, but I know enough that I can tell you this: Jack's a good guy, and he'd never commit treason like these guys have. He might buck the system every now and then, but he'd never turn his back on it, and I don't want you to get involved in anything that you might not be able to get out of."

"I wouldn't join up with anything I didn't trust – or anyone I didn't trust."

And since Nate knew Ian didn't trust many people, that was a good sign.

"Good."

"So… does this mean I have to watch my back from now on? Are there going to be guys coming looking for me?"

Nate shook his head.

"You let me worry about that. And _them_."


	32. 32

When Jack returned from talking to Hammond, Ian and Nate were just emerging from the small supply closet off the entrance to the infirmary. Thinking of a good dozen jokes he would have had if either of them had just emerged from that closet with a female in tow, he stopped to talk to them.

"I need to borrow Ian for a while, Nate. General Hammond wants to discuss a few things with him, River and Shawn."

"No problem, Jack. I'm done with him."

They all headed into the infirmary, and Jack led them over to River's bed, where Shawn and Sam were still gathered, although Jake was fidgeting in Sam's arms. Fraiser came over as soon as she saw Ian and Nate return, and reached the bed just in time to hear Jack's first words to River.

"General Hammond would like a chance to talk to you three before he goes home."

"Yes, sir." River said. He looked at Janet. "Can I have some clothes?"

"I thought you _liked_ being naked," Shawn said, grinning.

River flushed, looking down at himself.

"I'm not naked."

Janet smiled, and nodded.

"I'll have them bring you something more substantial, cadet."

"Thanks."

Ian didn't have a clue what was so funny, either, but everyone else did, including Janet to judge from the grin. He wasn't wearing much more than River had been, though, and he agreed that he needed more clothing. Luckily, he had a locker jut down the hall filled with extra street clothes – he didn't feel like dressing in a uniform.

"I have some sweats or jeans in my locker," he offered, much to River's relief.

"Perfect. I'll take the sweats. Your jeans probably won't fit me."

"That's because you're fat."

"It's not fat, it's muscle." He started to say more, but realized they still had an audience, and didn't feel like screwing with Ian with so many other people around.

"Doc?"

Janet looked at Jack when he spoke up.

"Can River make it to the briefing room? Or do we bring Hammond down to him?"

She frowned, looking at River.

"I can get up," he said, quickly.

Jack looked over at Janet, who hesitated, and then nodded.

"As long as he doesn't have to use stairs, he can probably get up for a little while."

Although she couldn't for the life of her understand why he wasn't more seriously injured. By all rights, he should have been mangled. Allowing him to get up and walk around would give her a better idea of how much tissue damage there was and if he'd need anything more than just aspirin for the next few days for the pain. (She had no intention of giving him anything stronger if she could avoid it, he obviously didn't react well to medications).

"We'll take the elevator," Jack promised.

"You're not keeping Ian here overnight, are you, Doctor Fraiser?" Nathan asked.

"No," Ian said.

"I might," Janet countered. "I'd like a chance to talk to him, but-"

"I'm fine," Ian protested. "There's not a mark on me."

Nate looked at Janet, his blue eyes questioning. Like Ian had said, there wasn't a mark on him – not even a scratch. Which made him wonder why Fraiser seemed so worried about allowing him to leave. Nate was very good at reading people, and there was something bothering the doctor – something about his son. And of course, that meant he needed to know what it was.

"You let Doctor Fraiser decide that, Ian," Nate said, shrugging. He looked at Jack. "They're going to see Hammond now?"

"As soon as possible," Jack confirmed.

"Good enough. Tell George I'd like to see him before he goes home, though, will you?"

"Sure."

Nate turned to Janet, who had looked surprised when the retired general had backed her up about Ian possibly staying overnight.

"I'd like a chance to talk to you, as well, Doctor Fraiser. If you have a minute while they're gone?"

Which couldn't have suited Janet more. She nodded.

"Let me make sure River's not going to fall on his face if I let him up, and I'll meet you in my office."

"That's fine."

OOOOOOOOO

Vice President Robert Kinsey was relaxing in his home, sitting in a soft, overstuffed chair with his feet up on the footstool in front of it and a drink in his hand. He ached from a long day on his feet, but he was getting better, and the aches weren't as bad as they'd been even a few weeks ago, which was a relief to him. He wasn't quite ready to go to bed, but he was winding down enough that he would be soon. A drink or two always made the aches go away.

The phone rang in the other room, but he ignored it. His wife was home, and she knew he didn't want to get up any more than he needed to. She'd answer the phone.

Sure enough, a moment later it stopped ringing, and a moment after that she came into the living room holding it.

"Bob? Senator Hoff is on the phone."

"Hoff?"

She nodded and handed the phone to him, taking his drink from him so she could refill it with one that didn't look so strong. He scowled, but he didn't say anything. Instead he took the phone and glared at her retreating back.

"Yes?"

The voice on the other line belonged to Jerry Hoff, junior Senator from the great state of Virginia, and another silent member of the Trust – one of the reasons that they had very little trouble getting funding for their little operation.

"Bob? Are you alone?"

Kinsey scowled. He hated it when Hoff called him by his first name, but no matter how many times he called him on it, Hoff would brush off the reprimand, saying there was no way he was going to bow and scrape to Kinsey.

"Yes, I'm alone. What do you want?"

"I've got some… unsettling news."

"What?"

"Admiral Leaf has just been found in his home… he's dead."

Kinsey felt his stomach flip-flop.

"Dead?"

"Yeah. It's…" the Vice President could hear the shudder in the younger man's voice as he took a deep, settling breath. "…it's pretty gruesome, from what I've been told."

"_Dead_?" Kinsey repeated, stupidly.

There was no doubt in his mind who had been responsible for that. Absolutely no doubt whatsoever. The only question was; was he next? Suddenly, the Vice President very much wished for his wife to bring him his drink – ad he couldn't get off the phone fast enough to call and double check that his secret service detail was close at hand.


	33. 33

He hadn't intended for the briefing to last all that long, but it did. When Hammond joined the others in the briefing room, the first thing he did was ask River to tell him – and the others – exactly what he'd been told by Morgan about the Stargate. This was to ascertain just how much of the secret was out – and to get some intel on the guys who had give the secret away.

He was appalled at just how much the young man had been told in that short morning. Not everything he'd been told was accurate, but enough of it was. And he knew there was no way of hiding the existence of the Stargate from River by simply telling him it wasn't true and that the Trust had been made up as part of some bigger plot – kidnapping or something. River _wasn't_ stupid, after all, and there was way too much he'd seen to back up what he'd been told. The cat was well and truly out of the bag this time.

Oh well… it wasn't the first time, and it undoubtedly wouldn't be the last.

"You understand that what you were told is something you never should have found out about…?"

River nodded. He wasn't worried about them doing something to get rid of him to make sure he didn't share the secret with anyone else, but he did have to wonder what they were going to do about the fact that he knew.

"Yes, sir. I didn't mean for-"

"No," Hammond held up his hand, negating the need for an apology. "This isn't your fault, son. But the facts you were given are only part of the story, and this is something that's far too important for you to only know a little bit and allow you to try and make up the rest on your own. While I trust that you are aware that it's not something that can be shared with your family and friends – and not to be discussed outside of this facility – I am also going to insist that you sign a confidentiality order."

"That's fine, General."

"Good. Now, let me give you the real history of what's been going on around here…"

He didn't tell River everything, of course. There were some things that he really didn't need to know – and other things that were still classified. He didn't bother to tell him about the various races of aliens that they'd met so far – time for that later, when he wasn't tired and wanting to go home. He simply gave a history of how the Stargate was discovered, what they'd been doing with it, and how important it was to the future of the planet – at least as far as he was concerned.

He had Shawn and Ian in on the briefing so the two would know exactly what their friend knew, and would know that he was in on the secret, but also as a reminder that they weren't allowed to chat about it off base, either. Not that he had any concerns about that, since it was obvious neither of them had mentioned it before, since River hadn't known the true nature of the Cheyenne Mountain complex until that weekend.

He finished his short history and looked at River, who had been staring at him.

"Any questions?"

"A million of them."

Jack smiled.

"Pick one."

"Can I see the Stargate?"

"Not today," Hammond said. "It's getting late." He wanted to go home soon, and wasn't going to conduct a tour.

"Tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

"Can I go through it?"

Ian couldn't help but smile. He knew there was absolutely no reason to allow Hayden to go through the gate, but he hoped Hammond would let him anyways, because it was definitely something you had to do at least once.

"We'll see."

That was better than no.

"What are you guys going to do with me, now that I know about your SGC?"

Hammond sighed.

"That depends on you. Just because you're aware of the SGC, doesn't mean you have to join it – or have anything to do with it. We, of course, are always looking for exceptional people to join our SG teams – once you graduate from the academy, you're definitely going to be qualified to apply, if not sooner. However, the SGC isn't for everyone – and Colonel O'Neill tells me that the one thing you really want is to be a pilot. We don't have a lot of planes in the mountain, as I'm sure you've probably guessed."

River smiled.

"I figured that."

"Which doesn't mean that we won't need people who can fly. Colonel and Major O'Neill are both fine pilots, and that skill has saved their hides more than once – and Earth, too, for that matter. So, really…" Hammond shrugged. "We just don't know. You can learn a bit more about it, and decide over the next few years if that's something you might be interested in."

"Or you can go on to a career flying fighters, or helicopters, or doing whatever you want to do," Jack added. "There's no pressure. We just wanted you to know what's going on here, so the next time someone comes up to you and starts talking to you about joining some secret group, you'll tell them to go to hell – and then come tell us what you were told."

"Yes," Hammond agreed, and saw that even Ian was nodding his agreement. He looked at the New Yorker. "You, young man, should have done the same thing. The minute you were addressed by strange men telling you that they knew about the Stargate, you should have come told us – not called your father."

"They looked like spooks, General," Ian said. "I didn't-"

"You weren't thinking, Ian," Hammond said. He could see that Ian didn't like the fact that he was getting a dressing down because of his actions – especially in front of the other two cadets – but Hammond needed to make sure Ian realized just how wrong he'd been. This whole mess could have been avoided if Ian would have gone to Jack – or Sam – instead of Nathan. It probably _wouldn't_ have, he reminded himself, unwilling to truthfully allow Ian to shoulder the entire blame. The Trust still could have gone after River – there was no reason that any of them would have anticipated that – but at least Nate wouldn't have been in on it. "CIA or FBI or whatever you thought they were, they still had no business talking to you about it out of secured areas, and when that kind of thing happens people need to know. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He was practically glowering, now, and Hammond decided that it was time to call the briefing to a stop, to give Ian a chance to cool down a little, and Jack a chance to remind him that reprimands weren't really anything personal. Jack had received his fair share of them, after all.

"Let's call it a night, gentlemen," he said, standing up. He looked at the three sitting there. "You're all going to stay in the infirmary tonight – from what I hear Doctor Fraiser isn't worried about any of you having health issues because of today's events, but she wants to wait until she gets her test results back to release any of you, and I agree, so don't bother arguing about it."

If Ian had looked upset before, he looked practically ready to explode now, but Hammond didn't even give him a chance.

"Dismissed."

He walked into his office and closed the door.


	34. 34

"You wanted to talk to me, General Brooks?"

Nathan had seated himself in the chair across from Janet's small desk while he waited for her to get River ready for his briefing, and the older Brooks looked up at her when she walked in.

"You seem concerned about my son," he said without preamble. "I'd like to know why."

"I am concerned about your son," Janet confirmed as she sat down across from him. "Well… more like puzzled," she amended. "He has me baffled."

Nathan smiled, leaning back in his chair.

"He does that to me all the time."

"You're his father," Janet said. "It's his job to confuse you…"

Nathan's smile grew a little, but then he turned serious.

"Is there something wrong with him?"

Janet shrugged.

"I can't find anything, general, but this afternoon he collapsed – and I'm not sure why."

"Collapsed?"

"Shawn said he fainted, but I don't think so. It looks more like some kind of low blood pressure episode or something – only every test I've done on him has come back completely normal. And you saw how he is, now. He's walking around and acting perfectly normal. Is there any history of anemia in your family?"

Nathan shook his head.

"No, nothing like that."

"Any idea what it might be?"

"Did you ask him?"

She shook her head.

"I'm going to, but I have a feeling he's not going to tell me anything."

Nate was silent for a minute, and then he shrugged.

"When he was younger – right after he got his license – he wrecked my brother's car and almost killed himself. Could it be something left over from that? He was unconscious for several days."

Janet nodded.

"I know about that, general. It's in his medical history. I reran a lot of tests that the neurologists ran on him before they released him from the hospital, and my tests came out just as clean as theirs. What really mystifies me is that he didn't do this after he was shot – or during the time he was recovering from an infection he'd received… elsewhere… It's just…" she shrugged, frowning. "It's when people around him are hurt – like River and Shawn today, and he's done it once before right after he delivered Jake…"

Nathan scowled.

"He's never had any trouble with blood before. He's hunted with my brother several times and I've never heard of him blacking out on them…"

Janet shrugged again.

"Like I said; he's got me baffled. I honestly don't know what to do with him."

"Is he in danger?"

She shook her head.

"He's fine. He's very healthy, and he keeps himself that way."

"Then he'll be allowed to continue what he's doing?"

"I can't see any reason to stop him. He's never faltered on a mission, and as far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with him. I just-"

"Maybe he's just tired, Doctor Fraiser…" Nate said, interrupting. "He looks pretty tired – and he looks tired _every_ time I come to see him."

Janet hesitated, and then shrugged.

"It's _possible_…" she admitted. "He does have a lot on his plate, and I can't even begin to imagine how he's managing to get it all done."

"He's a perfectionist," Nate said, shrugging. "He gets that from Maggie, because he definitely didn't get it from me. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head.

"There's not even anything I can do – especially since I don't know what's wrong with him. I've asked General Hammond to tell all three of them that they're staying overnight here this evening, and that will give my staff time to observe him and make sure he's acting normal…"

"He's going to love that."

Janet smiled, "Which is why I asked _Hammond_ to tell them instead of telling them myself."

"Smart."

She nodded, and stood up.

"I'd better get things ready around here, or I'll never get to go home tonight. Thank you for your time, sir."

Nate stood up as well, and shook his head.

"If it's about Ian, I always have time, Doctor Fraiser." He hesitated, looking like he was going to say more, but then shrugged. "I wasn't always there for him when he was growing up… but I'm going to make sure if he ever needs anything now that he knows he can ask."

Janet smiled.

"If he doesn't by now, he's learning it, I'm sure."

Nathan, had, after all, come to Colorado several times since Ian had joined the academy, Janet knew. Ian was bright enough to figure out some things on his own, after all.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Nate left the office and saw Sam sitting on one of the beds, holding Jake and feeding him – with a bottle, luckily. Since he wanted to talk to Ian once more before leaving – and wanted to talk to George as well – he went over and sat down beside her, smiling down at the baby, who looked over at him, but immediately turned his attention back to the bottle.

"How is he?"

Sam smiled, looking down at her son.

"Starving. The way he's gobbling his dinner, you'd think he hasn't eaten in a week."

"He's a growing baby, that's all. Ian was the worst… he'd drive Maggie nuts. One day he'd do nothing but eat, the next day it was all she could do to get him to eat anything. He was erratic and fussy and-"

"And you wouldn't have had him any other way."

Nate grinned.

"Not on your life. He was perfect."

He sat with Sam and Jake while she fed the baby, and then offered to burp him – as long as she gave him a towel to protect his shirt. While he was performing this service, Jacob fell asleep, his chin tucked on Nathan's shoulder, and Sam smiled and took the baby back, telling him she'd put him down to sleep and would be right back.

Almost as soon as she left, however, Ian, Jack, River and Shawn all returned. Shawn and River looked slightly annoyed, Jack looked a little tired, and Ian looked like his head was going to blow off his neck right then and there. It'd been a long time since he'd seen his son look so angry, and while everyone else seemed to be trying to avoid him, Nate did the opposite, and headed over to the bed he'd flopped himself down in.


	35. 35

_Author's Note: Language alert!_

OOOOOOOO

"What's wrong with you?"

Ian looked up at his father, and couldn't help himself.

"None of your fucking business."

He knew even as he said it that Nate didn't deserve the attitude; he'd come a long way just to check on him and it wasn't his fault Hammond was pissed at him and Fraiser was keeping him overnight in the infirmary for no fucking reason at all. He just didn't care just then. He knew Fraiser knew there was nothing wrong with him, and Hammond probably knew, too. He was just pissed at Ian, and allowing Fraiser to take that out on him. How fucking unfair was that?

Nate scowled.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Did someone say something that-"

"Dad…" Ian cut him off before he could really start to pry. His mother could get away with it, but Ian didn't feel like opening up to Nate. For that matter, he didn't feel like opening up to his mother, either. "Just let it drop, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

Nate's scowl grew thunderous, but before he could say anything – and probably the _wrong_ thing – Janet was at the bedside as well.

"How's everything going over here?"

Ian gave her an incredulous look that was laced with fury and disgust, and he rolled off the bed and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Janet looked at Nate, who looked ready to go after him, and shook her head.

"He must have heard I was keeping him overnight."

Ah. Yes, that would be a reason for him to be mad, Nate decided. And it would explain the dirty look Ian had given Fraiser before he'd left. But he couldn't help but think that Ian had seemed far angrier than just that situation would warrant.

"Maybe…"

Fraiser smiled, not looking at all offended by being the recipient of the look.

"He'll get over it by morning, and I'll talk to him then."

"I _had_ hoped to talk to him…"

She shrugged.

"I could send an orderly after him…"

Nate scowled. He knew better than Janet Fraiser did just how closed off his son would be just then. Sending someone looking for him would just make things worse.

"Ian left?"

They both turned and saw Jack had walked up to them while they'd been talking; his gaze on the door Ian had left through.

"Oh yeah."

Jack shrugged. He knew that no matter how angry Ian was, he wouldn't leave the base now that he knew he was expected to stay there overnight. He turned to Nate.

"You have a place to stay tonight?"

"I was going to stay with Ian… but I think I'll mooch a spare room from George, now, and just come back and talk to him in the morning when he's in a better mood."

"You could stay with us."

"Is Jake sleeping through the night?"

Jack smiled.

"Sometimes."

"I'll mooch a room off George. That way I don't have to change diapers."

"Suit yourself."

"I always do." He turned to Fraiser. "When will you have the last of your test results in?"

She shrugged.

"Hopefully tomorrow."

"Will you be back here in the morning?"

It would be Sunday, after all, and Nate knew that she'd want a day off that week – but he was also pretty sure she was used to working odd hours. Especially now that he knew what was going on around the base.

Janet nodded. She'd also make it a point to bring Cassie – who'd almost certainly want to come anyways. Janet wasn't above using whatever advantage she could get, and had she known she was going to need her, she would have called Cassie down that evening, even though the girl had spent the night at a friend's house.

"I'm going to go talk to George, then," Nate said, looking at Jack. "If I don't see you tonight, I'll most likely see you in the morning."

Jack nodded.

"We'll be here."

Nate left the infirmary, then, and Jack looked at Janet.

"Where'd Ian go?"

She shrugged.

"No clue, sir, but he's angry…"

"Yeah…"

He'd known that when Ian had left the briefing, and had hoped to have a chance to talk to him about it. Now, though, he'd have to go hunt him up, and there was really no guarantee that he'd _actually_ talk to Jack. Or anyone else for that matter. Well… _almost_ anyone else.

"I'm going to go find Sam, doc," Jack said, giving her a tight smile. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, sir."

OOOOOOOOOO

Ian hadn't really known where he was going to go when he'd left the infirmary. He'd just known that he had to leave. Before he said something to Fraiser that would piss her off completely and ruin what progress they'd made in the past months getting to know each other a little better. Jesus, they'd even started getting along – more or less – and then she'd gone and pulled a fucking stunt like this! Keeping him in the infirmary over night was a load of shit, and Ian knew it. There wasn't anything wrong with him – nothing she would have been able to do anything about anyways – and she was good enough a doctor to know it.

It was times like this when he wished he had his own office, because a place of his own was exactly what he needed just then. His only options were to go to Sam's lab – and he wasn't in any state of mind to work with the delicate diagnostic equipment they were using just then – or he could go to the gym. Even though he was fairly well flagged, as angry as he was, the gym was looking better and better the more he thought about it, and he changed direction before he even realized it.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the heavy bag, beating the shit out of the thing and taking out all his anger and frustration on it.

Fucking Hammond. If Ian had half the brains everyone thought he did, he'd go to Hammond's office and tell him to stick his SGC up his ass. Telling him off like that – in front of everyone – had been such a line of bullshit. All Ian had been doing was trying to keep from bothering anyone else with his problems, and what thanks did he get for that? None. Instead he gets stuck in the infirmary instead of being allowed to go home, and what he'd really wanted was a shower, a big meal and a chance to get some sleep without having doctors looming over him every minute.

He took another swipe at the heavy bag, feeling the muscles in his arms starting to burn and his hands – which should have been wrapped – start to ache a bit. He didn't care, though.

He couldn't quit the SGC, of course. Even though he'd already be making a shitload of money anywhere else doing R&D. Money wasn't everything – it wasn't really _anything_ to Ian, who had always had everything he wanted – and he was pretty sure by now that he didn't want to do R&D for any of the big name companies. Which were the only ones that would be able to afford allowing him to do whatever he wanted with engines and drives. He'd made promises, and he wouldn't back out of them. Even the promise to Alexander to keep an eye on Jack and help him whenever he could to keep him from stressing too much over the things around him.

Of course, look what had happened when he tried to keep Jack from stressing, Ian thought angrily, punching the bag several times in quick succession with a series of right hand jabs while he left held it in place. Sweat was dripping off him now, but he ignored it. He'd tried to keep from stressing _anyone_ – hadn't even mentioned the Trust guys to anyone involved with the SGC – and instead of thanking him for the effort, Hammond had chewed him out. Maybe not up one side and down the other, but Ian knew a reprimand when he heard one, and it had been one. So much for being any help to those around him.

He was falling into quite the pity pool, he knew, but he couldn't help it just then, even though he hated himself for it. He was angry, and frustrated, and so fucking tired that he felt like he'd drop the minute he stopped hitting the heavy bag. He should have just become a hermit or something, he thought. Then he wouldn't have to worry about trying to –

"Ian?"

The voice behind him startled him so badly he actually missed the heavy bag with his next punch, but he managed to keep from tripping himself up and his momentum turned him enough that he could whirl and see who had spoken without looking like he'd been too startled – he hoped.

It was Sam.


	36. 36

Ian didn't answer her. He was leaning slightly against the heavy bag, his left arm holding it so it wouldn't swing and his right hand paused in the action of punching the bag again. Sam was the last person he wanted to talk to just then. Actually, there was absolutely no one he wanted to talk to just then, because he knew that he'd just say something and fuck it up, which would just make them mad. Instead, he turned away from her, and took another swing at the heavy bag.

She wasn't at all hurt by his actions. She more or less understood that he didn't want to talk, but she knew that he had to, whether he liked it or not. He needed to understand things that he should have learned a long time ago, and simply hadn't.

"Jack told me what happened in the briefing…"

Ian scowled, and slammed his hand into the heavy bag again, and then again.

"Yeah?"

Of course he did. Everyone else knew he'd supposedly fucked up; why not share it with Sam, too? He supposed the next thing they'd do is put out some kind of memo and share it with the entire Air Force Academy. He hit the bag again, ignoring the ache in his hand.

Sam came around and stood on the other side of the bag, so he'd have to look at her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's to talk about Sam? Hammond's pissed at me and I'm stuck here for the night – probably the rest of my fucking life, the way things are looking."

He hit the bag again, but was careful not to allow it to swing into her with the force of the blow.

"General Hammond isn't mad at you, Ian…"

"Yes he is. You should have heard what he said; all this bullshit about how I should have gone to someone else and let them know about these guys coming up to me and talking to me about knowing about the-"

"You should have."

He scowled. Great. She was on their side. That was just fucking lovely. The one person on the entire base that he'd never thought would turn on him, and she was, too, now.

"Fine, I should have…" He slammed the bag again, and Sam reached out, taking the bag in both hands and pulling it away from him as well as she could.

"Ian… you're taking it way too personally."

"It's a reprimand, Sam," he told her, panting, and wiping the sweat out of his eyes. "How am I supposed to take it?"

"You're supposed to take it in the spirit it was given – as a learning tool."

He scowled again, but Sam could see that he honestly looked confused as well as angry, and she wondered what was going on in that brilliant mind of his. Moving between him and the bag so he'd stop swinging and pay attention to what she was saying, she reached out and pressed her palm against his chest, feeling his heart pounding through the sweat-soaked t-shirt he was wearing.

"The whole part of being a member of a team is to trust the other members of that team," she told him, her gaze locked on his own. "_You're_ new to the whole concept of a team dynamic, Ian, and we all know that, but it's important that you understand… if something affects _you_, it affects the other members of the team – as you've found out today."

"I-"

She tapped his chest, interrupting him before he could interrupt her.

"If you had come to Jack – or me, or even Daniel or Teal'c – we would have known something was going on. While we might not have linked it with what happened to River, we still would have been aware that something was going on and we would have been able to be on the guard against it – or try to find out what was going on and who those people were before things got out of hand."

"So it's my fault?"

She could hear the bitterness in his voice, and shook her head, knowing that he wasn't getting it.

"All you did wrong, Ian, was not trust us enough to ask us for help."

"I trust you," he told her.

"You didn't come to me."

"You've got a million other things on your mind, Sam," he said. "Why should I add to it with something that I didn't think was all that big of a deal? Jack has just as much going on and-"

"You have more on your plate than any of us, Ian," Sam interrupted. "And I still come to you with questions about this new drive I'm working on, don't I?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because I don't mind helping you."

Sam smiled, and shook her head.

"You think I get annoyed when you ask me for help? I know Jack has never been irritated by a question or request for his time…"

Ian sighed, uncertain what to say. But Sam wasn't finished.

"Being a part of a _team_ means you're allowed to ask for help. You don't have to do everything on your own, Ian. That's why we're here; to help you. Just like _you're_ here to help us when we need it… understand?"

It was plain to her that he didn't quite understand, but she was pretty sure that if he had a chance to think things through he could probably figure it out on his own, now. The problem was that none of them had given him the seed to think on in the first place. They'd all just assumed he'd understood that, and it had been a mistake, because he was not a team player by nature, and there were things that he just couldn't know without being told. Continuously.

He shrugged, looking away from her, uncertain, and Sam pulled him into an impromptu hug, holding him for just a moment before letting him go and smiling at him.

"If I had a dollar for every reprimand that I've been given, I'd be rich."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"They're not the end of the world, Ian – and certainly not something to get so upset by. Next time someone approaches you and wants you to come talk to them about the Stargate or something else, you'll know to come and tell someone… right?"

He nodded, looking a little distracted, and Sam knew he was already thinking about what she'd told him. That was one of the things she liked most about him; he was always willing to think things through. Once he got over being mad.

"Good." She eyed him critically. "You'd better get a shower, young man. Or you're going to stiffen up and ache in the morning – and then Janet _will_ have a reason for keeping you here."

Ian nodded again, flushing at the reminder of being stuck at the SGC still.

"I'll do that…"

"We're going to leave for the night, but we'll be back tomorrow… and Janet said she'd release all of you tomorrow. Maybe we can go do something as a group?"

"If you want…"

Sam smiled.

"I'd enjoy it. Go shower, and then get something to eat, and some sleep. You'll feel a lot better once you do."

He felt a little better already – although he didn't say it.

"Thanks, Sam…"

She reached out and touched his cheek, tenderly.

"You're welcome."


	37. 37

Ten minutes later he was in the locker room, following Sam's advice of a shower and still thinking over what she'd said to him. As he stepped under the water – which was hot but still cooler than his skin, and chilled him for just a moment before cooling him off – he was considering the whole concept of a team dynamic.

Teamwork wasn't something that came naturally to Ian. Which wasn't all that odd considering just how very little he liked people in the first place. Most people, anyways. There were a few exceptions, and had been even fewer when he was younger. Far more intelligent than those his own age, he'd avoided them, and way too arrogant to put up with any crap from people who were older, he tended to stay away from them as well. It worked well for him growing up.

In high school, he'd known he was going to need a few extra curricular activities on his transcript in order to get into a good college – lots of people had the grades he had, after all – so he'd joined several clubs. But they were clubs carefully chosen to keep him away from people as well as he could, anyways. The fencing club and the chess club were perfect, because they were activities you pretty much did on your own, without needing to consult anyone else. When he needed a sport, he chose football, but managed to play wide receiver, so he wouldn't have to interact too much with the others on the team – most of whom hadn't liked him personally, although they loved the fact that he could catch a ball when it was thrown to him, and that he would never back down from a fight on the field, even with the biggest of the linebackers from the other team.

So teamwork wasn't something he'd learned, and now he was realizing that if he was going to continue with SG-1 – or with the SGC once Sam returned to full time work – he was going to have to start making an effort to try and learn it now.

He sighed, and put his face into the spray, the hot water soaking his hair thoroughly and relaxing muscles that were still tense from being so angry. He wasn't so sure it was even worth the effort. When he looked at the future, he had trouble picturing what he was going to be. As he'd told Sam so long ago – although it hadn't really been all _that_ long ago – he just didn't have a clue what he was going to do with his life. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be in the military, truth be told. Add in the fact that he had information in his brain that no one else on Earth could even imagine, and sometimes Ian wondered if there was any place for him.

He was tired. Physically tired – although he knew most of that was just from the events of the day, and from being so angry earlier. Mentally tired, because he was always holding in secrets that he didn't dare tell anyone. Especially now. God only knew what Hammond would do to him if he knew that Ian hadn't told anyone about being hijacked on his way through a Stargate and having the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into his head. Not that it had been his idea or anything, of course, but he was pretty sure Hammond would have a shit fit if he knew about it. And worse, he was sure Jack and Sam wouldn't be happy about it, either.

He wasn't being a team player, he knew – although he'd only been trying to help. Like when he'd healed Sam and taken care of Jake, or when he'd fixed River and Shawn up earlier. He was supposed to be helping Jack, too. Hadn't that been the whole point of what Alexander had done to him? So far, though, Ian couldn't see where he'd been much of any help. He'd been more trouble than anything else, and it was fairly depressing. Because even when he tried to help, he wasn't.

Realizing that he wasn't going to be able to solve the world's problems in the shower that night – hell, he couldn't even solve _his_ – Ian turned off the water and reached for a towel. He didn't have any more solutions than he'd started with, but he did feel better, and he wasn't angry anymore. He could see what Sam had been trying to tell him, and knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't going to be able to change in a day, but he'd give it a shot. Eventually.

For now, what he wanted was something to eat and some sleep. He changed into sweats and a t-shirt, and headed for the commissary, hoping to find something worth eating. What he found in the deserted room, however, were some dishes with cake and pie and jello, and the remnants of what had been several sandwiches. Obviously the Marines guarding the SGC had been and gone, and had wiped out what there had been for real food before they'd left.

Grumbling to himself, Ian grabbed all the desserts he could carry, knowing that it wasn't even going to make a dent on how hungry he was – and would probably get him slightly wired on some kind of sugar rush – and headed back to the infirmary before someone was sent to look for him.

OOOOOOOO

"Where have you been?" River asked him the minute he came through the door.

Ian scowled, looking at the Californian, who was holding a slice of pizza in his hand and sitting up on his bed with Shawn sitting on the edge of it. The two of them were both eating pizza, and playing chess, with the board set on a hospital table between them.

"None of your fucking business. Where did you get that?"

Shawn grinned, but it was River who spoke up.

"None of your fucking business," he said, in a perfect imitation of Ian's sarcastic drawl.

Ian smiled, despite himself, and flipped River off.

"Adams? Answer the question before I'm forced to kick your buddy's ass, will you?"

Shawn gestured to a table in the middle of the infirmary, where there were several pizza boxes. It was obvious that the staff of the infirmary had helped themselves, but there was also a lot left over.

"Doctor Fraiser ordered it before she left," Shawn told him. "Help yourself."

Ian scowled, not sure he wanted anything to do with Doctor Fraiser just then – even eating the pizza she'd ordered – but he realized he was being petty. Besides, he was hungry, and cake wasn't going to do the trick.

"Here."

He set the majority of the dishes of cake and pie on the table beside the chess set for his roommates to have, and headed for the pizza table.

"You want to play winner?" River asked him as he started piling slices on a paper plate.

"No. I'm going to get some sleep."

He knew once he'd stuffed himself he wasn't going to be awake long enough to wait for them to finish their chess game.

"We could play cards or something if you want to play, Ian," Shawn offered.

Ian shook his head.

"I'm tired, Shawn. Thanks, though."

He left them to their game and carried his pizza and cake to the far end of the room, pulled the curtain shut around his bed so no one would bother him and got into bed with a sigh. Pizza wasn't a substitute for being at home where he'd be able to sleep far more soundly, but it was nice of Fraiser – and thoughtful. Probably it had been Sam's idea, he decided.

He ate most of what he'd grabbed, ignored the cake and jello, and fell asleep even quicker than he'd expected.


	38. 38

The smell of breakfast woke Ian the next morning. An impossible smell, because he knew even as he woke up where he was and that there wasn't a kitchen in the infirmary. But he was pretty sure he smelled bacon and eggs and sausage and coffee. He rolled over and opened his eyes, looking around sleepily, and saw his father sitting in a chair beside his bed, feet up on the edge of the bed and a large bag beside him. Nate was munching on a breakfast sandwich, and sipping a cup of coffee as he read the newspaper, but it was obvious that his entire attention wasn't on the news, because the moment Ian moved, he set the paper aside and looked at his son.

"Good morning."

"Please tell me some of that's mine…"

Nate smiled, and nodded.

"As much as you care to eat."

Ian sat up in the bed and reached for the bag Nathan handed him, and pulled out a wrapped sandwich.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I figured you'd want something substantial for breakfast and wasn't sure what this place offered up."

"The food's not bad," Ian said around a mouthful of sandwich. "Not as good as this, though."

He wondered how his dad knew that sandwiches from this place were his favorite meal – since it wasn't a fast food chain that they had in New York – but decided that he probably found out from Jack or Sam. It wasn't a secret, after all, and his dad was pretty good at ferreting out information.

Nate nodded and took another sip of his coffee, watching as Ian ate. He sure didn't seem unhealthy to the retired general, and he couldn't see any sign that the boy had collapsed the day before. He looked tired – but he always did, it seemed – and he was eating as if he hadn't had a square meal in days, but Ian had always had a healthy appetite, so that didn't concern Nate.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm fine."

"Good."

Nate pulled another sandwich out of the bag and started in on it while Ian looked around. The curtain around his bed was open and he could see that Shawn and River were both still sleeping. A glance at his watch told him it was fairly early – but he was used to waking up early, and he knew Nate was as well. The medical staff was a skeleton crew at best just then with no critical patients in their infirmary to worry about and it being the weekend, and the two that there were in the room just then were both checking River's chart while the Californian slept. Probably talking about how cute he was, Ian decided.

"George told me what happened in the briefing yesterday," Nate said, breaking into Ian's thoughts.

The cadet scowled, reminded about just how upset he'd been at the reprimand.

"Yeah?"

Nate nodded.

"I know you didn't like it – and I don't blame you; there's nothing worse than a reprimand from an officer that you really like – but I wanted to let you know that I'm glad you called me about these guys."

"You are?"

"Yeah. If someone's fucking with you, then I want to know about it. Especially when it's more than _one_ someone."

Ian felt oddly touched by the protectiveness in his voice, and despite the reprimand, he was glad he'd called Nate, too.

"Hammond didn't like that I didn't tell them…"

"You _should_ have told them, son," Nate said. "Especially when you're doing the kind of crazy shit you're doing here. But I'm glad you called me, too."

Ian shrugged, but Nate was finished talking about the reprimand, now, knowing as he did just how Ian had felt about it.

"Do you like what you're doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"With the Stargate program," Nathan clarified. "George showed me around this morning – kind of gave me the fifty cent tour – and I have to admit, it's pretty impressive. Which doesn't mean that you _want_ to be here… so, do you?"

"Want to be here?" Ian asked, just to make sure he knew what his dad was asking. He shrugged, and nodded, almost reluctantly. "It's not so bad, and I like the people I'm working with."

Nate nodded.

"I can see that. If you don't like it, though… I could probably find you something else and see if you like it more…"

Meaning he'd pull every string he had a handle on if that was what it took to make Ian happy. And Ian knew that was what he meant, and it made him feel good.

"I'm doing something important here, dad."

"So you want to stay…"

"Yeah."

For now at least. Until Sam was able to leave Jake long enough to come back. And until he knew what the hell he was supposed to do with his life.

"Good."

Nate drained his coffee cup.

"I'm going back to New York this morning. Now that I know you're okay, there are some things I need to take care of. Do you need me to send you anything?"

Ian shook his head.

"I'm set, dad."

"You have enough ammo for your guns?"

"Yeah."

Of course, Ian just realized he didn't have a clue where his back up Glock was – or his car for that matter. Shawn would know, though. He'd had the gun last.

"Still coming fishing this summer?"

Ian nodded.

"It sounds good."

"Good. I'll hold you to it."

"Yes, sir."


	39. 39

Nate was gone and Ian had been awake for a full hour before Shawn or River either one woke up. By then all the breakfast sandwiches had been devoured – even though Ian knew he should save them some. He'd been hungry, though. Starving, even? Yeah, probably. Besides, what they didn't know wouldn't kill them, right? He'd just get rid of the evidence. Since he wasn't confined to his bed – only the infirmary – he got up and carried the bags towards the garbage at the other end of the room.

"What smells so good?" River asked, looking around as he woke up. He winced, then, groaning as the aches from the day before caught up with him, and he flopped back down into his pillow. Immediately a medic was there, making him more comfortable with repositioning and handing him a painkiller – nothing nearly as potent as the day before, but enough to dull the pain nicely.

"General Brooks brought in some breakfast," she told River, giving Ian an apologetic look when he scowled at her. River was far too cute to resist answering, after all. Even better looking than Ian, and with a far better disposition.

"Breakfast?" Shawn asked, hopefully, sitting up as well. He didn't wince quite so much, since his arm hadn't been as badly injured as River's entire body had been, and it had been a smaller area for Ian to focus on, allowing him to do more to help it.

"It's gone," Ian told them both.

There were twin looks of disappointment and annoyance, and Ian gave them as innocent a look as he could muster – which was a terrible one – and shrugged as he tossed the bags into the garbage.

"They were getting cold…" he said. "I didn't want you guys to have to eat cold breakfast sandwiches…"

Which wasn't true at all, and they both knew it, too.

"You're too kind," River said, sarcastically.

"What can I say?" He asked them, shrugging. "I'm just looking out for you guys."

"You _suck_, Brooks," River said, scowling.

"I can live with that."

He headed back to his bed, and closed the curtain around it, ignoring the two pillows that slapped into the back of his head right before he managed to close it completely. Grinning and pleasantly full, he flopped back down in his bed and debated taking a nap or something. Even though he wasn't all that tired, he did manage to fall asleep fairly quickly. Lazy Sunday morning and all that…

OOOOOOO

When Jack and Sam entered the infirmary an hour later, Shawn and River were both finishing up their breakfast. Which wasn't anywhere near as appealing as Ian's had been. The cooks in the commissary were gone and had left simple food stuffs for the skeleton crew in the SGC, knowing that most of them could just as easily head off base and grab a meal for themselves – and their co-workers, if necessary. Because of that, the two cadets had been given toast and cold cereal with juice. But luckily both of them were far better about it than Ian might have been had he been one of the ones stuck with such plain fare.

"What's for breakfast?" Jack asked, walking into the room and seeing that both of them were eating. He was carrying Jake in his arms, while Sam was holding three bags from one of the local take out places. Bags that smelled wonderful. Shawn and River both looked at her, ignoring Jack.

"Hi, Sam," Shawn said.

"Major O'Neill… you look wonderful today, if I might say so…" River said at the exact same time.

She smiled, and dropped one of the bags on the table in front of him, not at all fooled by his charm. He was only interested in the food, and she knew it. She handed another to Shawn, who smiled gratefully and pushed his toast aside to make room for it.

"Thanks, Sam."

"We thought you guys would want something a little more filling than toast, and Janet said it was okay."

"You talked to her today?" Shawn asked.

"Yeah," Jack told him. "She's on her way here, but we were up early…" No need to mention why, since Jake had undoubtedly woke them both crying for breakfast. "So we told her we'd stop and get you breakfast."

"That was nice of you," River told them, pulling a Styrofoam box out of the bag and opening it, revealing a huge stack of pancakes with eggs and sausages and toast stacked on the side. His face lit up and Sam smiled.

She looked over towards the other end of the room, and with the last bag in her hand she headed to the closed curtain.

"Hey! He already had breakfast…"

Sam nodded, and pulled the curtain back. Of course Ian had _had_ breakfast, but she'd seen what Shawn and River had had, and it didn't look anywhere as good as the pancakes she'd picked out just for them. He'd feel better with a good meal under his belt, and maybe would be just a little less grumpy for it.

She smiled when she saw he was asleep, wondering if he was going to be impossible to wake up. When she sat down on the edge of his bed, however, his eyes opened and he looked up at her – and then at the bag in her hand.

"Good morning," Sam told him cheerfully.

He sat up, making a little more room for her – a wordless gesture of welcome that made her feel warm inside.

"Hi, Sam. Is Jack here, too?"

She nodded and handed the bag over to him since he didn't have a table in front of him.

"He is, but he's talking to Shawn and River. We brought breakfast… are you hungry?"

He nodded and took the bag from her. He was _always_ hungry.

"Thanks."

"How do you feel?" She asked, watching as he pulled the Styrofoam box from the bag and opened it.

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Tired?"

He shook his head.

"Nah, not really. I was just napping."

She hesitated, but knew she was probably the only one who could ask him the next question without having him snap. Probably.

"Are you okay?"

He scowled, knowing exactly what she was referring to and knowing it wasn't his health this time.

"I'm okay." He changed the subject, though. "My dad came by and talked to me this morning before he left for home…"

"He left?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Ian shrugged.

"We talked a little. Nothing too serious… but he… we talked."

Sam didn't smile although she wanted to. Ian was about as bad when it came to talking about his feelings as anyone she'd ever seen – and she'd seen _Jack_, who had held that honor for the longest time.

"That's good."

He nodded.

"Yeah."

OOOOOOOO

"He already _had_ breakfast," River said, frowning as Sam headed for Ian's bed.

"A big one," Shawn added.

Jack started to say something, but was interrupted when Janet came into the room. She had a serious expression on her face, and gave a slight gesture to Jack as soon as he looked her way.

"Excuse me guys," Jack told the two cadets. "Jake and I want to have a talk with Doctor Fraiser."

He moved towards her office, and Janet closed the door behind them.

"What's up?" He asked.

"I just stopped by the hospital on my way here," Janet said.

"Yeah?"

"Andrew Bennett died during the night. Complications from his surgery is what the doctors told me."

Jack frowned. Bennett had been the one to shoot Shawn, and Jack had been looking forward to watching him hang for it. Now it looked like he had already paid the ultimate price. He just hadn't suffered nearly enough for Jack's satisfaction.


	40. 40

"I can't say that I'm really all that sorry to hear that, doc."

Janet nodded, not at all surprised by O'Neill's admission. She knew how vindictive he could be – especially when it came to someone messing with someone he loved.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want it mentioned…" she said, looking out the glass window towards the bed River was in, eating his breakfast.

"What do you mean?"

"River caused the accident when he grabbed the steering wheel, right?"

"I see your point."

Jack only _looked_ and _acted_ dumb, after all. Janet had concerns that River might feel guilty about being – ultimately – responsible for the death of Bennett, and Jack could see how that might happen. Not that he thought River had had any choice and he was pleased that the boy had done what was necessary to keep himself from falling into the hands of strangers, but it was a possibility.

"The thing is, Colonel…" Janet said, softly. "I looked at Bennett's chart yesterday before I left the hospital. He should have recovered fully. The injuries were bad, but there wasn't anything life threatening."

"But he's dead…"

She nodded.

"There was a bubble in one of his IV s. Which never happens. It reached his heart and caused a massive coronary, killing him before the doctors could get him back."

"Well then, it wasn't River's fault, now was it?" Jack said, shrugging, and resting his chin lightly on Jacob's little head when the baby started squirming. The touch settled him nicely, and Janet smiled despite the topic of discussion.

"So do you want me to mention it or not?"

"I wouldn't. He doesn't need to know right now – and by the time it comes out, he might not even need to ever know. The guys that did the kidnapping are going to be arrested once they're able to leave the hospital, they'll make bail the minute they are – since they're so well connected – and then we'll probably never hear from them again."

"And you're okay with that?" Janet asked with surprise.

Jack shrugged. He wasn't exactly okay with it, but there were other ways to deal with things like this – and this time he didn't even have to do anything.

"Organizations like the Trust have their own ways of dealing with people who make mistakes, doc. I didn't say the guys would get away with a slap on the hand, I said they'd probably never be seen again."

She paused, and then realized what he meant. And realized that he was right. Bennett might have got off lucky.

"Are you going to release them today?" Jack asked, before she could comment. This wasn't really a conversation he wanted to have while he was holding Jake, even though he knew his son didn't understand what was being said. It just seemed wrong to him.

"Probably," Janet said, looking down at the charts that she had on her desk. Updated as of the last hour with information on all three young men in her infirmary. Information that showed Nathan Brooks had come and gone – and had brought his son a healthy sized meal before he'd left. "Depending on how they look when I check them out…"

"And Ian?"

She scowled.

"He'll be released today." She didn't have any reason to keep him as far as she could tell. He was in fine health and all his tests had come back proving it. "As soon as I get around to it."

"Well do it…" Jack said, shrugging off all thoughts of kidnappers and Trust and everything else. "It's Sunday and Sam and I thought we could spend some time with all three of them – since it's not all that often they get together like this and they're all healthy. You're invited, too, of course – and Cassie."

Janet smiled.

"Cassie's at a friend's. She stayed the night, and is helping her fill out student loan applications… using some fancy things that Ian showed her. And Emmett is in town and he and I can use the alone time…"

She flushed slightly at Jack's knowing smile, but raised her chin anyways, daring him to tease her. And to her surprise, he didn't.

"Well, then… clear the boys and let them go and Sam and I will take them off your hands so you can have the day to your own… amusements…"

"Get out of my office, Colonel."

Jack smiled, his brown eyes twinkling with good humor, because he knew he'd scored a kill, and left the little room before she could throw something sharp at him.

OOOOOO

"What's up?"

Shawn couldn't help but smile when he saw Jack, because he was in a great mood to judge by the grin on his face.

"Tell me she said we can leave…?" River added from the bed next to Shawn's.

"No promises, but she said she'd check you guys out and see."

"Good."

"Got a hot date?" Jack asked.

River smiled and shook his head.

"Just tired of being in bed."

"Sam and I were thinking about kidnapping you guys and spending the day together… interested?"

"Doing what?" Shawn asked. Not that he wasn't interested, because any time he could spend time with Jack was good time as far as he was concerned. Add in time with the others and it just made it that much better. He'd agree to it even I all Jack and Sam wanted to do was play in the park with Jaffer.

"Some shopping," Jack told them both. "Sam wants to go to the mall… and I know you're going to need new clothes for the summer, Shawn, so we might as well get them before the term ends. River can do some shopping – or just look at the girls, and Ian…"

Well… Ian… he might not want to go to the mall… He wasn't the most social person, and Jack was pretty sure he had plenty of jeans and white t-shirts, which was all he seemed to wear when he wasn't in uniform.

"_Ian_ can baby sit Jake," Shawn said, grinning. "So Sam doesn't have to carry him through the stores."

"And he can tote shopping bags," River added, more than willing to get Ian back for eating his breakfast earlier.

"I can do _what_?"

They all looked up and saw Ian walking toward them with Sam, who smiled and reached for Jake, who gurgled happily when he saw Ian and reached a hand out towards him – almost idly.

Ian scowled, but there was no annoyance in his eyes when he reached out and touched the hand for just a moment before looking back at the others.

"Sam and Jack want to go shopping and was hoping we'd spend the day with them, too," Shawn said. "We can all use some new clothes, after all, since summer's coming. Interested?"

It was fairly obvious he'd rather belly flop onto a pile of thumbtacks than spend the day at the mall, but he simply scowled again. There was also no way he'd turn Sam down, and she was looking at him hopefully.

"Fine."


	41. 41

Author's Note: A little language alert

OOOOOOOO

"You don't _really_ have to come if you don't want to…"

They were walking through the SGC on their way to the elevators, and Sam had lagged back to talk to Ian, while Jack and Shawn gave River an abbreviated tour of what little he'd see on the way up top. There would be a more in depth tour at a later date, Jack promised, but that would have to wait for authorization from Hammond and the powers that be. River didn't mind waiting, he said, as Jaffer led the way towards the elevators and Jack carried Jake in his baby carrier thing. There was plenty of time for that, after all, and he was anxious to get out into the sunshine.

Ian shrugged.

"I don't mind, Sam."

He hadn't had any other plans that day – although he wouldn't have minded calling Cassie and seeing if she wanted to do something with him. There had been precious little time with her lately, and he missed her company.

She smiled, knowing it wasn't exactly the truth, and looped her arm through his for a moment, allowing him to be her escort until they reached the elevators.

It'd taken Janet a couple of hours to clear all three of them. River had been the one to take the longest, because he was actually still in a little pain, and Fraiser hadn't been all that sure she'd wanted to release him. Especially since he'd be going back to the academy that evening and she didn't want him trying to run around. What she'd ended up doing was calling the academy – where they were already aware that he was in a car accident and under her care – and making sure they knew not to allow him full active status until he'd had a thorough physical from the medical staff there. Janet was more than willing to admit that the staff there was almost as competent as her own, after all.

Then she'd kicked them all out of her infirmary, telling them that she didn't want to see any of them in there again – and looking directly at Ian as she'd said it. Ian had simply scowled, but the others had more than made up for his lack of cheerfulness.

"Stop somewhere for lunch?" Jack asked them as they all crowded onto the elevator.

"There's a food court in the mall," Sam said. "We can eat there."

Since Ian's car had been returned to the SGC in advance of his own release from the infirmary, he'd take his car and Sam would drive hers.

"Shotgun," River called as they all walked out into the bright sunshine – a welcomed change after being inside for the last day and a half.

Shawn scowled, but fair was fair, and he hadn't called it quick enough. Jack grinned and handed Jake to Sam who would get him into his car seat in the back of their car. Since they were going to be inside for several hours at least and it was a bright sunny day, he was going to leave Jaffer at the base in the kennels instead of forcing him to sit and wait for them in the car. Jack headed off with Jaffer, and while River and Shawn were settling themselves in Ian's car – which now had the top down – and Sam was getting Jake situated in his car seat, Ian opened up the glove box. And scowled.

"Where's my Glock, Adams?"

"You expecting trouble?" River asked, sarcastically.

Knowing that the gun was a sensitive issue with Ian, Shawn didn't tease him about it.

"It's in Jack's office, I think," he told him. "The cops wouldn't give it back to me so he had to get it for you."

Ian nodded. It wasn't like he was going to need it that minute, anyways, but it was definitely something he always wanted to keep track of.

"You guys ready?" Jack asked, returning from the kennels without his big black shadow in tow, now.

"Yup."

"We'll meet you there."

Sam gave Ian a final smile as he got behind the wheel, and then gave him an odd look when he started the engine. She'd driven that car for a couple of years, after all, and knew what it was _supposed_ to sound like. And darned if it didn't sound like there were more RPMs under the hood than there had been. A _lot_ more. He grinned, understanding the look immediately.

"Wanna race?" He asked her, revving the engine.

"Don't even _think_ about it."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Jack smiled and pulled the car out of the parking space, and Ian pulled in behind them. He wasn't in any hurry to take over baby-sitting duties, after all.

OOOOOOO

"Where are you going to be?"

Ian frowned, looking around the busy mall, and then at Sam. In one hand he was holding the baby carrier thing, complete with sleeping baby in it. In the other he was holding a can of Mountain Dew. They'd just finished lunch and Jack had already gone off with River and Shawn, leaving Sam free to do her own shopping, since none of the guys had shown any interest in shopping for dresses and new bras and panties with her. Go figure.

"We'll wait for you right there," he said, finally, pointing to a bench in the middle of the mall corridor.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"He's sleeping."

Meaning he didn't mind just then. As long as he didn't have to pick him up or cuddle him or try and feed him. All of which still terrified Ian – although he was getting better at holding the baby the bigger Jake grew. He was still small, though.

She smiled.

"I won't be long."

"Take your time, Sam."

He meant it, too. She had precious little time to herself now days, and he knew it. It wouldn't kill him to watch Jake sleep for a while so she could enjoy herself. She nodded, and headed for the closest store, and Ian carried Jake over to the bench and sat down, putting the carrier beside him on the bench where he'd be able to keep an eye on the infant.

And promptly found out that babies are a good way to get attention. Even when you didn't _want_ attention.

"Ooooooh, isn't he _precious_….?"

He looked up at the soft voice and saw a couple of older women had come over to look into the carrier. Both of them were about the same age as his mother and both had smiles on their faces as they looked at Jake. Ian scowled.

"What's his name?"

"Ringo."

One of the women frowned.

"That's an odd name…"

"Yeah, well… he's an exchange student. Go find someone else to gawk at, will you?"

The _last_ thing he needed was for them to wake Jake up.

The women were both frowning, now, and they tossed him a pair of dirty looks before leaving, noses in the air in the manner of someone who has been terribly affronted. Ian glared at them as they went, and then looked back down at Jake to make sure he was still sleeping. Which he was.

"Oh… he's _cute_…"

He looked up and saw a young woman about his own age had come over and sat down beside him, looking into the carrier. Ian scowled again, watching as yet another young woman came over to look as well. This was ridiculous. He was a _baby_, for shit's sake. It wasn't like there weren't a million of them at the mall that afternoon. Why were they all looking at this one?

"He's sleeping. Go away."

The two girls frowned, unable to believe anyone could be so rude and waiting for an apology. Ian wasn't about to give them one, though. A moment later, they both left the bench, talking about Ian as they went. He didn't care, though. He looked and made sure Jake was still asleep.

"Awww… how old is-"

"Jesus Christ, lady, go away…"

Yet another woman had come up to him, and Ian was beginning to wonder if someone was playing a practical joke on him or something. It was insane. In ten minutes, he'd managed to attract the attention of several women – and just because of a baby. The woman stomped away, insulted, and Ian realized he'd spoken too loud that time in his anger, because Jacob was now waking up.

Well… shit.


	42. 42

"No…" Ian whispered to the baby, who was just starting to open his eyes and look around. "You're _sleepy_… Go back to sleep, big guy…"

At the sound of his voice, however soft, Jake looked up at him; his brown eyes wide awake, despite Ian's words. He was not _sleepy_! He was ready to be awake now!

Ian sighed, scowling over at the woman he'd just sent on her way. This was all her fault. If she would have just minded her own business – her and all the other women – then Jake would still be asleep.

The baby gave him a few moments to pick him up, but when Ian didn't make any such move, Jake started to whimper, softly. He liked being held. He _loved_ being held, for that matter. More than anything in the world he loved pressing up close against someone and listening to their hearts beat and their throats vibrate when they spoke to the people around them – or simply murmured to him. He didn't think it in so many words, of course, but he knew what he liked, and what comforted him, and being held was definitely a favorite for him. And Ian wasn't complying with that desire.

"No…" Ian said, almost frantically, looking around and hoping Sam would come walking up just then, magically finished with all her shopping and ready to cuddle her son. No such luck, of course. "Come on, Jake, go back to sleep…"

The little face scrunched up, and the little hands balled into fists, a sure sign – even to Ian, who had no experience with babies aside what little he knew about Jake – that crying was soon to follow.

"Happy baby," Ian said. "You're a happy baby, remember?"

Jake didn't feel at all like a happy baby. He _could_ have been a happy baby if he'd been picked up. Now he was a grumpy baby. The whimpers grew louder, until they were drawing attention from everyone who passed by.

With a purely mental curse, Ian gave in and unbuckled Jake from the soft harness that kept him firmly in place in his carrier. Even as he pulled the infant out of the carrier the whimpers stopped, replaced by the wide-eyed stare that Jake always seemed to give Ian whenever he touched him. Probably just waiting to be dropped on his head, Ian was sure. Even the baby had to realize how bad he was at holding him.

"Come here, you big baby," Ian said with a sigh, wrapping the blanket around Jake – just in case he peed (or worse) – and to keep him warm. Jacob's head was immediately tucked under Ian's chin, which drew several warm smiles from women who were walking past and happened to see it. And Ian scowled; to make sure they knew he didn't want their company or comments.

"You know… I think you might be just a little _spoiled_, Jacob O'Neill…"

The baby didn't answer him, he simply grabbed hold of Ian's t-shirt in one hand and started gumming his neck – a favorite past time of his whenever he was close to it.

"I think I'm jealous," A voice said from behind them. "I thought I was the only one allowed to chew on your neck."

Ian and Jake both looked over at the sound of the voice, and Cassie Fraiser couldn't help but smile at the sight. The baby's eyes were no where near as dark as Ian's were, but they were just as beautiful – and adorable when they were so wide with surprise. He looked so much like Jack it was almost scary.

Ian smiled, truly surprised to see her there.

"I thought you were at your friend's?"

"I was."

Cassie came over and sat down next to Ian, and reached out to rest her fingers against Jake's soft cheek.

"How did you know we were here?"

"Mom told me." She smiled, a little naughtily. "I think she only told me so I'd leave her and Emmett alone for a while."

Ian smiled, too, but really didn't want to explore Janet Fraiser's love life. Especially with her daughter.

"Did you get everything done you needed to do?"

"Meaning can I spend the rest of the day with you?"

"Yeah."

"Yup. Until ten, when I have to be home."

"Great."

She smiled, because she knew he meant it – and she knew that she was one of a very small group of people he actually sought time with.

"Where's Sam and everyone else? And how did _you_ get stuck babysitting?"

"They're shopping. And I hate shopping more than I hate baby sitting, so I offered to sit and wait for them."

"You don't hate baby sitting…"

He nodded.

"I do."

"You like Jake."

"I didn't say I hated Jake. But I like him a lot better when I'm not holding him and worried about dropping him or something."

She smiled, and leaned against him, careful not to put him off balance.

"I think he makes you look sexy."

Joy. That was what he wanted; to look sexy.

"I'd say you're a little biased."

"Maybe."

He smiled, and leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple before turning his full attention to the baby in his arms.

"How long are you going to be shopping?"

"No clue."

"Would you be upset if I go look for Sam?"

"Nope. She went that way, last I saw." He gestured with his chin, because he refused to take either hand away from holding Jake.

"I'll be back."

"We'll be here."

It wasn't like he and Jacob were going to go cruising for chicks, after all – although if River had had any idea just how much female attention a baby received, Ian was certain he would have volunteered immediately to be the baby sitter.

Cassie left them alone, and Ian turned his attention back to Jake, who was quiet and happy now that he was being held.

"You're such a little punk…"

He didn't mean it, though, and even Jake knew that. The baby gurgled in his ear and set to chewing on his neck again.


	43. 43

The plane landed almost twenty minutes early, but when Nathan Brooks walked out into the terminal, he wasn't at all surprised to find Ian Piper standing there waiting for him. The Colonel was dressed almost exactly like Nate himself; jeans and a polo shirt, with a light jacket that showed signs of the drizzle that was falling outside. It was mid spring in New York, of course it was raining.

"You're early."

Nate nodded.

"According to the pilot, we had a favorable tail wind all the way here. Of course, if we would have left on time, we would have been even earlier."

"In which case you'd have been standing on the corner waiting for a bus," Ian told him, reaching out and taking his travel bag automatically. Generals didn't carry their own luggage when there was a colonel around to carry it for him. Even if they were friends that went way back. "I didn't get your message until about an hour ago."

"I didn't fancy taking a cab home. So I appreciate you picking me up."

Piper nodded, and the two were quiet until they walked through the airport doors and into what was now rain and no longer drizzle.

"How's Ian?"

"He's fine. He says hi."

"Good. He doing okay? Does he need anything?"

Nate shook his head.

"He's set."

"What did you find out?"

"All sorts of weird shit. Unfortunately, I can't tell you about most of it."

Which told Piper immediately that it was beyond classified, since Brooks would never keep secrets from him unless it was absolutely forbidden to tell. And there was very little he was forbidden to tell.

"Tell me what you can…"

"Some guys were fucking with Ian."

"Yeah? Those guys that were associated with Leaf?"

"Yeah."

"You know he's dead?"

Brooks nodded, but didn't say anything else about that particular subject.

Which told Piper all he needed to know.

"There are others…"

Brooks shrugged.

"For now."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

It wasn't more than an hour later by the time Sam and Cassie showed up again. Both of them were carrying bags that looked filled with clothing, and both were smiling at some shared joke as they came around the corner of the mall corridor towards him. Their smiles grew when they saw Ian looking at them, and he couldn't help but smile back. Jacob was still in his arms, and Ian's neck was soaking wet with baby drool – at least he hoped it was just drool. Whatever it was, it was also running down the back of his shoulder and had soaked the back of his t-shirt, but there wasn't much he could do about that. The baby hadn't gone back to sleep, he'd simply enjoyed being held, his eyes wide as he watched people walking past him and his godfather – and continuing to gnaw on Ian's neck happily.

"You okay?" Sam asked as they came within speaking distance. She could see he looked tense – but he always looked tense when he was holding Jacob, she knew that.

He nodded.

"I see you found a _few_ things to buy…"

This was said sarcastically, since there were obviously way more than just a few things in the many bags. Sam smiled.

"A couple things jumped out at me and forced me to buy them…"

"Uh huh…"

"Really."

"Yeah, I believe that."

"Want me to take him?"

"Are you done shopping?"

"I'm ready to sit for a while."

He handed Jake over to her, and she sat down beside him. Cassie moved the carrier out of the way and took the spot on the other side of him, reaching out and touching his slimy neck.

"You're soaked."

"He did it."

"He does it to Jack, too," Sam said, cradling Jake in one arm and reaching into the carrier for a bottle with the other hand – something Ian never would have attempted doing. "He doesn't do it to me, though, so I must not taste as good." She smiled warmly down at the baby, who was now drooling around the nipple of the bottle as he nursed. "Why don't you two go find Jack and the guys and see if they're about through shopping? I'm ready to call it a day and go relax for a while."

Ian nodded.

"You're okay here alone?"

She smiled at the automatic protectiveness.

"He's going to eat, then fall asleep. We'll be fine."

"We'll be right back," Cassie told her, getting up and pulling Ian to his feet as well, since she knew he'd dither about leaving Sam for at least a half hour if they didn't force the issue.

"Tell Jack to bring me some ice cream."

"Okay."

Still holding Ian's hand, Cassie led him down the hall, towards one of the men's clothing shops, where she and Sam had last seen Jack, River and Shawn.

"Do you want to go to a movie tonight?"

He nodded, holding her hand a little tighter.

"After we drop off the guys."

She smiled. Time alone was just what she'd had in mind. Even if they were going to be in the middle of a crowded theater.

"Good. We can-"

"Hey! Where's Sam?"

River had found them before they had found him, and was smiling cheerfully at the two, a large shopping bag in one hand, and a can of soda in the other. He'd obviously made one purchase at least, because instead of the plain white t-shirt he'd _been_ wearing, he was now sporting a vivid Hawaiian shirt, bright red with huge splotches of every other color under the sun.

Ian covered his eyes in mock agony – well, only _partially_ mock, really.

"She's off looking for a band of gypsies to sell you to."


	44. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"SG-1, you have a go…"

River looked over his shoulder at the window above where they were standing, and saw General Hammond standing there, watching. Beside him he could see Major O'Neill, who gave him a slight smile when she saw him looking. Nervous, but trying very hard to hide it, he gave her a cocky thumbs-up and a wide grin. Then he turned back towards the large metal ring that was situated at the top of the metal ramp. The inner circle of the thing was beginning to move, and little lights were starting to glow on it as each glyph clicked into place.

"Scared, Hayden?" Ian asked, with a slight smile.

There were five of them standing at the foot of the ramp, watching the gate. SG-1 and River Hayden, who was going to go through the thing for the first time, and wasn't really all that excited about it – although he was excited about what was waiting on the other side.

River shrugged, affecting a nonchalance that he didn't feel.

"I go through wormholes _all_ the time..."

Ian smiled, and adjusted the pack on his back. Hayden looked a bit pale – although as tanned as he was it didn't show nearly as well on him as it would have on someone else – and maybe a bit nervous, but he wasn't shaking and his voice had been steady. Ian remembered quite well how he'd felt when he'd gone through the first time, and was more than happy to tease, although he'd never have really held it against River if he'd been scared, or nervous, or anything like that. River was smart enough to know what was going to happen to his body when he stepped through the gate, after all, and no one should approach that with a smile the first time.

"Pay attention, guys," Jack said, drawing both of their attention back towards the gate. They were heading to Chulak, where there shouldn't be any enemy fire or ambushes, but it was always better to be ready for a problem than be caught off guard by it.

Ian and River both nodded, and a moment later the gate engaged with a violent swoosh, and River about jumped out of his brand new BDUs. And about dirtied his brand new BVDs, but that wasn't something he'd ever have admitted. He grinned at the looks the others gave him – amused, but not arrogant – and followed Colonel O'Neill up the ramp. Teal'c and Jack (the dog) went through first, followed closely by Daniel, but when River hesitated at the event horizon, Ian and Jack both stopped as well, both of them well understanding the need to look at it. It was, after all, rather pretty, and completely awe-inspiring. And a little frightening.

"It doesn't hurt," Ian said, watching as River put his hand against the watery looking substance. "I do it all the time."

"Yeah… well… You're not the brightest bulb in the box…"

Ian grinned.

"Yes, I am."

He stepped through, with Jaffer walking right behind him.

River stared at the place he'd been, and then looked at Jack, who smiled, too.

"He probably is, you know?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to let him know I think so."

With that, River stepped through as well, closing his eyes and hoping that he wasn't making some huge mistake.

A moment later, he was standing at the top of yet another ramp, this one made of hard-packed earth that showed signs of constant use. Now he was looking out over a huge field, filled with people and equipment. And all of them looked like Teal'c and were wearing some outlandish looking outfits that you'd never see at home – not even in California. But they looked natural on these folks.

"O'Neill."

One of the people that had been waiting for them broke off from the group and was walking up the ramp. An old man who had already smiled a greeting at Ian and was now turning his attention on River and Jack. From the description, this had to be Bra'tac.

"Master Bra'tac," Jack said, holding his hand out and grasping Bra'tac's warmly. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"And you." The old man turned his attention to River, then. "This is your young pilot?"

River smiled, a little awkwardly. It wasn't every day you were addressed by an alien, after all, and Jack slapped him lightly on the back.

"River Hayden, this is Master Bra'tac. One of the finest Jaffa warriors you'll ever have the privilege of meeting, and Teal'c's mentor. Master Bra'tac, this is River. Shawn's roommate at the academy."

Bra'tac offered Hayden his hand with a smile.

"I have heard many good things about you from Ian Brooks," Bra'tac told him, taking River's arm in an odd handshake.

River looked over at Ian, surprised.

"You have?"

Bra'tac smiled, as did Jack, but Ian just scowled.

"Yeah, well… don't let it go to your head."

River turned back to Bra'tac.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Which was enough of a greeting for Bra'tac. He released River's arm, and turned, gesturing towards the three small gliders that were sitting further down the field, obviously waiting for them.

"O'Neill tells me you have a love of flight and has requested that I introduce you to craft that you would not have a opportunity to fly on your planet."

Which was what River had been told was going to happen. He nodded, unable to hide his excitement as he looked over at the ships that were sitting there.

"I can't wait, sir."

Bra'tac nodded.

"Then there is no reason to make you. Let us go."

"Have fun," Ian said.

"You're not coming?" River asked.

"Are you nuts?" He shook his head and pointed to where a group of men were sparring, obviously practicing some complicated move over and under the watchful eye of a couple of instructors. "I'd rather get beat up any day."

Without another glance, he headed for the group of fighters, followed by Jaffer and Jack (the dog) who would not be able to fly with the others.

"Let's go," Jack said, smiling expectantly. He was looking forward to a day of flying too.

"Sounds great."

With that, River followed the others, heading for an adventure that he'd never have imagined possible a week ago. Goose and Maverick had never flown anything like those craft, and Bra'tac was going to make sure he could fly them before the day was out.

OOOOOOOO

"Bob? If you can't pay attention, you might as well go home."

With a startled scowl, Kinsey pulled his attention back to the Senate meeting at hand, frowning at the reprimand. Especially since the man who's spoken wasn't one of his superiors. But he was too distracted to pull rank just then. For that matter, he was so distracted; he actually did something he'd never done before to anyone he didn't have to. He apologized.

"Sorry."

The man nodded, accepting the apology graciously, although jaws dropped all around the table.

"We could postpone this… I know that Senator Hoff's death took you by surprise…"

Kinsey hesitated, and then nodded, glad for the excuse.

"Thank you. I think… I accept."

He stood up and without another word left the room.

It wasn't just Senator Hoff's death that had him rattled. Hoff was just the final straw. The last two weeks there had been several deaths in Washington D.C. Deaths that didn't seem connected – unless you knew the men – and deaths that had all been accidental. Again, unless you knew the men. Kinsey had known all of them. And knew that all of them were members of the Trust.

He'd suspected Hoff was clearing house at first; getting rid of those who seemed to be weaker links. Mainly because there were only two men with the brass to pull off that kind of house clearing; him and Hoff, and he knew it wasn't him. But the deaths had added up far too quickly, even though they went practically unnoticed by anyone but the police. There were no connections to the men, and all had appeared accidental, after all. Some of the accidents had been gruesome, but still, they were accidents. Or were supposed to look like accidents, anyways.

Then Hoff had been killed. Another accident. Sure, people fell off their balconies all the time, right? Kinsey didn't buy it for a minute, and now he was truly in a panic, because there was only one person who could possibly be responsible for the _accident_. One very angry father, who was obviously not at averse to taking permanent steps to insure that no one messed with his son. The problem now was that now that there were very few members of the Trust left, that made fewer targets, and Kinsey was almost certain that he was going to be next.

He kept his secret service detail close, although his permanently nervous state made him even harder to deal with than usual, and he was pretty sure by now that his detail would be just as happy to find him floating in the Potomac river as anyone else would. Which made him even more nervous.

The four man detail assigned to him was waiting by the door of the council chamber when he opened it, and he glared at them as he joined them, certain that one of them was going to sell him to Brooks any day now. Or maybe just hand him over for free. Who knew? The men all kept their faces carefully neutral, which was a sure sign of just how tired they were of putting up with his crap. But they didn't get paid to like the man, they were paid to protect him. So they took their places around him and waited for him to tell them where they were going.

"Home."

He had a splitting headache, and wanted to take a nap. When they exited the building, however, he stumbled and almost fell when he saw the car. Leaning against it casually, his hip resting against the front quarter panel, was the one man he'd been most terrified to see. Only a supporting hand kept Kinsey from falling, and he didn't even chew the Secret Service agent out for touching him. His heart was racing so fast that he wasn't even sure he'd be able to catch his breath, and his belly had tightened up so much he was afraid he was going to throw up then and there.

"Sir?"

The detail had seen Brooks, too, and recognized him from the restaurant a couple of weeks before. All of them knew who he was, and wondered what a man like Brooks would want with a snake like Kinsey. What they were asking, though, was what Kinsey wanted them to do. There were four of them, after all, and only one Brooks. And they could call for more help – which would be there in an instant. If Kinsey didn't want to talk to the general, Kinsey wasn't going to have to.

Kinsey's life had already flashed in front of his eyes before he realized the same thing the secret service guys had already known. Brooks couldn't hurt him here. Not this minute, anyways. And the general was smart enough to know it. Which must mean that he just wanted to talk – Kinsey hoped.

Pale and trembling, and long past hating himself for showing such weakness, Kinsey waved them away and walked to the car on his own.

"General Brooks… what a… pleasant surprise…"

How long ago had it been when he'd asked one of his lackeys what he'd ever have to fear from a chair warmer like Brooks? Kinsey hated the realization that that question had been answered – in spades.

Nathan Brooks nodded a greeting to the Secret Service guys, assuring them with that motion that he wasn't there to cause them any trouble. Which made them all relax just a little as they took positions just out of voice range – although they'd know immediately if Kinsey needed them. Then Brooks turned his cold blue eyes on Kinsey.

"You're losing friends left and right, I hear…"

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" His voice only shook a little. Something to be proud of, he supposed.

Nate shrugged.

"Is the lesson learned?"

"I didn't go after your son," Kinsey hissed. "I told them to stay away from him."

"I know. And that's the only reason you're still alive…"

Kinsey swallowed hard against a suddenly dry throat, but he didn't have to answer that, because Brooks wasn't giving him a chance to. He pushed himself away from the car.

"Keep it that way, Kinsey."

Without another word, Brooks walked away, leaving the Vice President of the United States standing there, watching him go, and feeling just a little surge of relief. He wasn't a target. And he damned sure wasn't going to allow himself to become one. He was tired of being constantly threatened and abused, and looking over his shoulder. Maybe it was time to rethink certain attitudes…

He turned and gestured for his detail. His head wasn't pounding quite as badly as it had been, and he was almost feeling giddy with relief, now, but he still wanted to go home.

**The End**

_So! Another story told! River and Nate both know about the SGC, now, and things are getting settled into place for those that are still to come. Reviews are appreciated, so I know what you liked and didn't, and let me know what you want to see in the future. If it goes with what I'm planning on writing, I'm always willing to add it in!_


End file.
